


To Fight Monsters, We Created Monsters (Pacific Rim)

by shalinabianca



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Pacific Rim (Movies), Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)
Genre: F/M, The Author Regrets Everything, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 78,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalinabianca/pseuds/shalinabianca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When all hope was lost, the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps was there to answer the call. When the kaiju threatened the existence of humans, they created monsters to threaten theirs. </p><p>And when you decide to cancel the Apocalypse, you better go big, or go extinct.</p><p>It seemed like a miracle to Greyson Darcy when her childhood friend came back from the dead. When time and time again the kaiju attacks became harder to win, it took all Rangers from the remaining Shatterdomes to defeat them.</p><p>The world saving the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We think we've come so far  
> On all our lies we depend  
> We see no consequence  
> This is the beginning of the end.  
> \- Nine Inch Nails

**_2013, August 10 – 10:32 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

It was a relatively nice day in Anchorage, which was more than people were capable of saying about the state of California. No one at the time would have thought that a Hollywood thriller was capable of coming to life.

    See the headlines now, on front pages of newspapers and magazines and tabloids everywhere. _2013: The Year Science Went Too Far._ Yeah, that sounded just about right.

    Greyson Darcy had gotten up early on that particular Saturday just to catch the brunt of the _Marvel Movie Marathon_ on one of many cable channels. She switched to the local news when she got up to make breakfast for her father and herself.

    _“…Great summer weather here in Anchorage,”_ the meteorologist said, _“with a high of 65 on Wednesday. Temperatures across the state, August 10th: 55 in McGrath, Anchorage and Juneau at 57, St. Paul Island’s there at an observed 48 degrees…_ ”

    Greyson rarely watched the news; her dad was the avid news-watcher in their two-person family, keeping her up-to-date with whatever newsworthy and/or possibly apocalyptic event that was ever aired.

    From the kitchen, she heard the Aces looked like they were getting ready for the ice hockey cup, and that ESPN was doing a beat about the upcoming San Francisco Giants and Baltimore Orioles baseball game later in the day.

    It was when Channel 11 showed the local newscasters reporting a 7.1 earthquake in California did anything attract her attention. The television practically yearned for it; wanted her to see for herself. She returned to the living room for a moment, intently watching the videos being shown.

    Earthquakes weren’t considered an anomaly in that part of the United States, she knew _that_ much. All right, okay — admittedly this quake was particularly high on the Richter scale. She did, however, find it weird that the newscasters announced witnesses reported a sighting of _something_ near the Golden Gate Bridge.

    Greyson took a firm hold on her remote control, and when she clicked to another channel, its feed took her by surprise; it looked to be playing out like a scene from a _Godzilla_ movie. Upon realizing that she was tuned in to news, Greyson held the television remote a lot tighter, clicking through other channels too — just to make sure. _It’s too late for April Fool’s pranks, isn’t it?_

    The young teen had looked at all the news outlets she knew of and they all said the same things:  “MONSTER” SURFACES FROM PACIFIC OCEAN. GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE ATTACKED. The timestamps for the videos aired were from an hour prior.

    With furrowed brows and a weary voice, she called out warily, “…Dad?” _I’m dreaming_ , Greyson thought unpleasantly, _this has to be some kind of sick joke_. She called out again for her father, louder this time. “C’mere! San Francisco was attacked!”

    William Darcy took his sweet time walking out to the brightly lit living room. His dark hair was standing up at multiple angles and his sweatshirt was askew across his broad shoulders. Sleepily, he yawned and shuffled his feet forward until he stood behind the sectional sofa.

    He smelled strongly of alcohol, but Greyson ignored it, like she always did.

   In Filipino, the father asked, “ _Ano ba, anak?”_ He blinked a few times, rubbing the sleep from his dark brown eyes, before fully turning his attention to his fourteen-year-old daughter. “What is it, Sonny?” William repeated, this time in English.

    Greyson only raised her brows, pointing to the television screen like it was so damn obvious — which she thought it was: The same video feed was being replayed, over and over again, but the news reporters and correspondents were frantically trying to update residents with the goings on of the Golden State.

    It took a few heartbeats for the situation to sink into the man. “ _Ano ba ‘to?”_ he muttered quietly, more to himself _._ “What _is_ this? Monsters in California?”

    Perhaps it was the fact she was up earlier than was usual, or maybe because freaking Godzilla is real, but Greyson didn’t feel scared or disoriented until their home landline rang. A chill ran up her spine. Her father answered.

    “Hey, Rich.” It was Mr. Becket, from next door. “Yeah, I know, I’m watching it right now.”

    Greyson tuned out her father’s conversation. For once, her attention was too focused on the news.

**_2013, August 11 – 11:25 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

More coverage was sent out the next day. And what the world saw was worse than it appeared merely a day before.

    Greyson and William had both thrown on a jacket for the chilled 57 degree weather, and walked next door to the Beckets’: It was easier than calling, and then ending up talking on the phone for hours.

    Big plus: Mrs. Becket had made French toast for brunch.

    The Beckets were already in their homey kitchen when the father-daughter Darcy duo arrived. Raleigh was the first one to perk up when he spotted the new arrivals. He offered a small, kind wave. “Hey, guys,” the young boy chirped. “Morning.”

    Will and Greyson had greeted everyone in return, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Dominique Becket, a brunette in contrast to the rest of the blond family, wiped the palms of her hands on the _Kiss the Cook_ apron, sauntering lithely in their direction. Taking the young girl into her arms, she asked, “ _Comment allez-vous, cher?_ ”

    Thankfully, Greyson didn’t need any high school French classes to know Mrs. Becket had asked how she was doing. “ _Bon, merci_ ,” she replied in kind.

    Yancy, the oldest of the Becket children, stood from the table, picking up his used dishes and silverware. He put them in the sink before going to their refrigerator and pulling out a carton of orange juice. “Crazy stuff, huh?” he asked absentmindedly about the latest news.

    “You’re telling me,” Greyson huffed whilst shaking her head, taking his previous seat. “To think, we were just in California two weeks ago visiting my cousins...”

    There was a smaller television set on the kitchen counter, apart from the flat screen in their living room. Richard Becket, a broad-shouldered man with a finely receding hairline, had walked over and turned up the system volume manually.

    Videos from the streets played: People screaming, people running along the streets. “GIANT CREATURE” ATTACKS. SAN FRANCISCO THREATENED. Buildings had collapsed. The National Guard and U. S. Air Force teams were called in to assist citizens and combat the threat.

    A Californian news correspondent’s commentary played over videos of a wrecked Golden Gate Bridge. “… _It must be 300 feet tall. Cars were tumbling off the bridge_ —”

    A reporter appeared on-screen, flying over the city in a helicopter. “ _San Francisco has now become a war zone,”_ they relayed. _“What are the chances of taking down this giant creature? I don’t know what is going to be left of this city_.

    “ _The American military has so far been unable to halt the creature’s advance_ —”

    All of them, so entranced with the unnatural sight on the screen, had jumped out of their skins when a small voice said, “I didn’t know we rented a monster movie.”

    Jazmine, then still a thirteen-year-old with Katniss Everdeen-esque braid and clips in her blonde hair, had swiftly moved to the table, picking up a slice of still-warm French toast from the pile.

    Yancy snorted out a short laugh before tipping his cup back, downing the juice in a single run. “Right, a very high-budgeted monster movie. Like _Godzilla_ —“

    “—Or the Leviathans from _The Avengers_ ,” insisted Raleigh, snickering.

    After finally getting over her giggle-fit, Greyson decided to join in on the fun, voicing, “Skyscraper-sized dinosaurs that breathe blue flames!”

    Sure, the kids were laughing now. From miles and miles away, the gravity of the situation hadn’t really hit them. But they knew.

    They just didn’t want to believe.

**_2013, August 15 – 12:48 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

People weren't able to evacuate the vicinity quick enough; it was to be expected. If it not for the haste of the National Guard, a lot more people probably would not have gotten away from the danger zones at all.

    Tens of thousands of people died in the downtown areas. Prior to the big-gunned, well-paid teams arriving and being able to make somewhat of a stand, the monster had made trek of thirty-five miles inland.

    It took almost a week to kill, and every day the news made sure the world saw the chaos. Three cities were all but demolished, changed forever, and probably inhabitable for a few good years. Even the somewhat smaller, surrounding cities weren’t left untouched. San Francisco. Oakland. Hayward. San Mateo. San Jose. The damage was bound to cost millions.

    But the damage from the attack wasn't entirely the monster’s fault. Tanks were on the streets, jets were flown through the air, and missiles were shot at the huge monster. Tactical nukes were brought in when all hope of using the Hellfire missiles diminished — _t _hree__ , actually.

    The government knew what they were doing when those nuclear warheads were sent; it was at the expense of major California cities and everyone living in them. Public relations campaigns explained that the Bay Area wouldn't be habitable for a while, not by a long shot; too much radiation from the weapons.

    And Greyson didn’t believe it was humanly possible to move a singularly intact monster for all the gold in the world.

**_2013, August 20 – 08:37 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“Dude, did you see the news?”

    “Everyone did, idiot.” Eyes rolled. “Jake, even people _without_ cable heard about it.”

    “Lily, I swear, that thing was gigantic!” A student’s arms spread wide, illustrating the size of the monster slain a mere few days prior.

    “I heard from my momma that they started calling it ‘Trespasser’ or something.” The girl that said it appeared bored, attention drawn to the blindingly bright Smartphone screen.

    A boy leaned back in his desk, tapping on the tabletop of Greyson Darcy behind him. “Hey, Sonny, don’t you have cousins there?”

    “Yeah, California,” she articulated, nodding somberly. “Anywhere near that attack, thank God, no.”

     Another boy, donning pink-dyed hair, had frowned. “My big brother goes to Laney.”

    “Where’s that at?” It was the Lily girl.

    “Oakland.”

    It was Greyson’s first day of school — high school, in fact. Everyone wanted to talk about the giant monster. What _else_ was there to talk about? In every classroom or hallway, people talked about the monster everyone began referring to as ‘Trespasser’. But through all the raised voices and rushed speech, one particular boy was keeping quiet, content with his silence.

    Raleigh Becket had chosen the seat beside his best friend at the beginning of their second hour class, which was nearly over. Yancy, bless him, had been made to run across campus to deliver some papers and had just left theirs.

    Greyson turned in her seat, watching as Raleigh defaced public school property. His pencil was scratching back and forth on the desk. “What are you drawing?” she had asked in a low voice, watching him.

    Blowing off excess pencil lead and eraser shavings, Raleigh motioned to his masterpiece.

    Greyson leaned over, examining it. There was a crude drawing of the giant creature, Trespasser, alongside what she thought was a robot from one of the old shows they used to love so much. She chuckled under her breath, “Godzilla and, uh… a Power Rangers Megazord?”

**_2013, October 2 – 20:42 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson Darcy was sitting at her computer desk with headphones over her ears, typing out a report for her English class. But even with them on, she heard the slam of the back door from the Becket household next door.

    Using the balls of her feet, Greyson pushed her chair to the half-open window, looking across to the neighboring backyard. Yancy was alone out there, kicking at the grass and pulling at his hair in what she assumed was anger and frustration. Greyson’s attention was averted to the window directly adjacent to hers, when Raleigh pulled it open.

    She gave a sympathetic smile to him upon reading his expression. “What’s up with Yance?” she asked in genuine curiosity, a little off put by the elder Becket. The Filipina stole another glance at Yancy. “Doesn’t seem so hot right now.”

    Raleigh stayed quiet for a few heartbeats. His arms were crossed, propped up on the windowpane, and his chin was rested against them. “We brought Mom to the hospital today…”

    Sighing, he continued almost reluctantly, as if admitting it out loud would make the situation even worse than it was. “She has lung cancer.” It sounded almost as if he spit the words out with venom. “Can you believe it? Fucking _lung_ _cancer_.”

    Greyson knew exactly what Raleigh was feeling. She’d had enough deaths in the family from cancers and other unnecessary illnesses that the universe was able to cook up. Empathetically, she wondered, “Did they tell you what stage it’s on?”

    “Dad probably knows, I don’t know. But Mom didn’t even care — she lit up right when we left the doctor…” Raleigh was obviously furious. At the world, at his mother, at himself — she had no idea. Greyson knew whenever Raleigh turned to short answers that he was barely holding together.

    The two of them sat in a somewhat comfortable silence.

    Eventually, Greyson stood from her chair and settled herself on the windowsill seat, solemn. “Do you remember that one time in fourth grade, when I was gone for, like, a month from school?”

    “How could I forget?” Raleigh uttered. “Before you left, you would never shut up, like _ever_ , but when you came back it was like you had your vocal cords taken out.”

    “I never told you the reason why.”

    Greyson still held back tears whenever she thought about them, even after so many years. “My mom had a younger brother named John, and we were pretty close. He had Scleroderma — died a few days before his twenty-first birthday.”

    Raleigh was quiet, listening.

    “Doctors said he wouldn’t live past sixteen, but he beat the odds until then.” She looked at him, searching his face for something — anything. “Look, I’m not saying it gets any better with time. That saying is utter bullshit, okay?

    “I’m saying you can move on from this, Rals. You know, _after_ you spend as much time with your mom as possible.”

    He gave her a smile. It was a small one, but a smile nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has since been updated/revised 7-22-17.


	2. Larger Than Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you people can't you see, can't you see  
> How your love's affecting our reality  
> Every time we're down  
> You can make it right  
> And that makes you larger than life.  
> \- Backstreet Boys

**_2014, February 5 – 10:45 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

 “…I see. Did anyone get hurt?” Will Darcy had been on the phone downstairs for a good hour. Not that she was counting, or anything.

    Greyson lay half asleep on her bed. The heater had turned off half an hour ago and their house was starting to get cold again. Or maybe that was her. Getting sick sucked.

    “That’s horrible. But they survived — they’re alive, right?” Her father’s voice had travelled up the stairs and into Greyson’s bedroom. That last words he uttered — _alive_ — woke up her senses. _Why was he asking if anyone was alive? What happened?_

    Greyson threw her covers away, sliding off the side of the mattress. She shoved her feet into her plush slippers before starting her tread down the stairs. By the time the fifteen-year-old teenager had gone into the living room, her father was just finishing his call. “ _Salamat_ , Jasper, thanks. I’ll let her know.”

    Her mother’s half-brother Jasper Schoenfeld was the one on the phone. Something bad must have happened if he needed to call.

    “Tito Jazz called? _Anong nangyari_?” she asked monotonously; _what happened?_ Her stuffed nose made it come out a little muffled. Greyson brushed the rogue, dark hair from her face, blinking at her dad. “Did someone die?”

    Will set the telephone back on the receiver as he answered his only child. “Another one of those kaiju things hit the Philippines.”

    It was like feeling icicles in her veins; Greyson’s blood ran cold. Of course, when she had asked who died, she didn’t mean it _literally_. “ _Si Mama at Papa, okay ba sila?_ Dad, are Mama and Papa okay?”

    “They’re fine — they’re okay,” her father said softly, trying to reassure his daughter of the thought. “ _Tumawag sila sa tito mo_ when they got power back. They called Jasper. It’s one in the morning there now, of the sixth.”

    Greyson nodded in understanding, asking only one question: “How long ago was the sighting?”

    “It hit Batangas almost seven hours ago,” William informed her, “and then destroyed its way to the Metro Manila area.” He turned the television on and tuned into The Filipino Channel (rightfully installed just for Greyson — she was an Asian soap opera buff, even though he wasn’t. William was born and raised in Manila. Jane Schoenfeld, Greyson’s mother, was half-Filipina from her mother; she and Jasper shared a father).

    TFC was airing a segment where they showed more camera phone videos of the new Godzilla-like monster. Both father and daughter watched. Greyson heard it, she listened to it intently, but she still couldn’t believe it.

    Though the newscaster was speaking in Filipino, the English subtitles were displayed at the bottom. “ _The kaiju landed in Taal hours ago. Most of Manila still has no power following the attack. Special Forces used a tactical nuclear strike to kill Hundun — it’s what they’re calling this one, according to officials in the Philippines_.”

    “Damn.” Her father’s voice was so soft that Greyson almost didn’t catch it over the volume of the television. “Your tito said he’s flying your mama and papa to California as soon as he can. Air transports and flights have been delayed.”

    “I’m going to miss a couple weeks of school, aren’t I?”

    William laughed a bit. “I think most kids would be happy to hear that, _anak_.”

**_2014, February 22 – 11:40 – LAX, California, United States_ **

Greyson Darcy and her father had flown for five and a half hours the day before to make sure they were with Jasper Schoenfeld at the airport to pick up her grandparents. Jasper’s and seven-year-old son, Robbie, was there as well.

    She had been on her cell phone for most of the day; reading online articles, updating her social media sites with pictures and statuses — typical teenager things. Over the course of the last six months, Greyson’s interest had been piqued by the kaiju.

    For so many years that it was impossible to count, mankind had always believed that if some alien came and landed Earth, it would be from the stars. But these monsters as of late had come from the Pacific Ocean. For some reason, they only appeared there.

    If her math teacher had told her anything about series, sequences, iterations, and things of the like, Greyson knew that absolutely nothing can be determined with only two occurrences. With the oceans hardly searched, Greyson was surprised that people were shocked that things like those kaiju even existed.

    She overheard her father ask, “Weren’t they flying in from Hawaiian Airlines?”

    Jasper replied, “No, the airline let go of their Philippine flights, too expensive for them. I bought them tickets for PAL.”

    Greyson was stood behind her father and uncle as they stared at the flight schedules. Her grandparents’ flight had been delayed an hour of departure. She told her dad that she was going to go looking for the Starbucks.

    Robbie Schoenfeld ran after his cousin before she got too far. He held her hand as they walked; a T-Rex toy firmly in the other.

**_2014, September 15 – 01:43 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

There was a new dawn for humanity. Not nine days earlier, twenty-one so-called ‘warrior states’ along the Pacific Rim came together to form the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. No one knew what it was really meant for yet.

    Her room was dark; the only light came from the screen. Greyson Darcy stared intently at her phone, watching the end of the live stream of the first PPDC conference from Seoul, South Korea.

    “… _That’s why we’re here, today. It’s the only question that matters — what will it take to_ grab _this monster by the throat and_ drag _him back to hell?_ ”

    A man by the name of Stacker Pentecost was giving the closing remarks, staring down thousands of people in the hall. The cameras panned to the crowd when someone spoke up. Greyson sat up in bed, surprised, when she recognized her uncle.

    “I _might be able to answer that!_ ” he called out. “ _Dr. Jasper Schoenfeld, sir_. _If I may._ ”

    When they brought him on stage to relay his presentation, Greyson knew she would be watching until the sun came up.

    Sleep was for the weak.

**_2014, November 9 – 16:09 – Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States_ **

After the Seoul conference, Jasper Schoenfeld was given the funding for his ‘Jaeger Project’. They were placed in an abandoned factory outside of Pittsburgh. His former student, Caitlin Lightcap, had left DARPA to pursue the project.

    Jasper had decided to move across the country temporarily, leaving his ex-wife and son in California. And since schools were out on a four-day weekend for Veterans’ Day, William and Greyson Darcy had flown to the continental States to spend their vacation on the East Coast.

    Ever since the new alliance of the PPDC, funding of the project had wavered. That day in particular, the special liaison Stacker Pentecost had arrived to assess their progress. Greyson had convinced her uncle to let her tag along that afternoon. He knew how much she enjoyed STEM and in the end, what was the harm?

    Uncle and niece entered the secure factory, and the latter’s eyes widened in awe upon seeing the flurry of activity surrounding the lone arm mecha in the middle of it all. She stopped fumbling with the Visitors badge on her shirt.

    They drove a cart to the middle of the factory, closer to the platform. A man was waiting for them. “Ah, Stacker, we’ve been expecting you,” Jasper greeted, shaking the liaison’s hand formally. “I’m glad you’re here.”

    Greyson stood behind her uncle sheepishly, smiling a bit at Pentecost. Their eyes met and his smile was kind. “And who might this be?”

    “This is my niece, Greyson. She and my brother-in-law are here for the weekend.”

    The young Filipina stuck her hand out to the other man. “It’s such an honor to meet you, sir.” Stacker’s hand engulfed hers, but she kept a firm grip as they shook.

    “The pleasure’s mine.”

    After a curt nod to the doctor, the three of them stepped towards the mechanical arm that hung overhead. It was a crude robotic arm with exposed mechanics and inner workings, held up with cables and two cranes. A tech center was raised beside it.

    Pentecost’s eyes roved over the limb, almost judging it. “An arm? Where’s the _rest_ of it?”

    Jasper replied, “You’ve seen my cost estimates.” The price must be ten times what the Corps initially gave if all they were able to do was one arm.

    “And you’ve worked out the control interface?”

    “We _might_ have something.”

    A voice from behind them piped up. “It’s called ‘the Pons’.”

    Stacker Pentecost turned back with Jasper, eyeing the newcomer. “Who’s this?” he asked, taking in the sight of a young, blonde scientist.

    “Doctor Caitlin Lightcap,” he answered. “Caitlin, this is Stacker Pentecost.”

    As she walked up, they exchanged a handshake. Caitlin waved at Greyson. Stacker further introduced himself. “Special Liaison. I’m here to evaluate your progress. Did you say ‘Pons’?”

    “It’s Latin for ‘bridge’,” Jasper elaborated.

    “I _know_ what it means in Rome, doctor. What does it mean _here_?”

    Caitlin shifted the tablet in her hand. “It’s a neural bridge between a biological brain and a robotic armature.” She gauged the man’s reaction.

    “So you can move this thing with just your _thoughts_?”

    “In theory,” Caitlin admitted, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “We haven’t tested the uplink.”

    “Why not?”

    “Funding,” Jasper told him. “We put in a request to recruit proper test subjects. We’re _still_ waiting to hear back.”

    “With all this new PPDC bureaucracy, you could be waiting a long time.” Stacker Pentecost unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it on the nearby cart. “May as well hook me in and see if your _theory_ works.”

    “You’re _serious_?” Jasper looked between Stacker and Caitlin, dumbfounded.

    Stacker pulled off his tie, nodding. “Of course.”

    Warily, Caitlin cut in. “I don’t recommend that, sir.”

    “Why? Will it kill me?”

    Greyson’s uncle and his pupil answered at the same time. Jasper said, “Probably not,” just as Caitlin muttered, “We don’t exactly know.”

    “I’m rooting for you guys. I really am. I hope this idea will save lives.” The PPDC liaison unbuttoned his cufflinks, finishing with, “But I need to come back to them with _something_ if you want more cash.”

    With no other choice, Caitlin Lightcap led Pentecost to their control room. Jasper started to follow suit before turning back to his niece. He grinned. “Do you want to see something cool?”

    “Are you sure? I’ll probably just get in the way,” Greyson replied, thinking that she’d come on a bad day.

    “C’mon, Gracie, it’s not every day you get to see history being made!” He extended an arm, nodding ahead. Greyson beamed with excitement, running to his side immediately.

    In less than an hour, Stacker Pentecost was hooked up to electrodes, a brainwave transmitter, and had his right arm encased in a robotic sleeve resembling the mecha’s limb. Greyson watched from the preview window as her uncle and Caitlin told the control room techs to set up everything.

    “Okay…” Jasper glanced at the monitors, nodding slightly. “You’re live.”

    “Feels… _strange_. Like my hand is in wet concrete,” Stacker illustrated, lifting his arm out. More than a handful of electrodes were attached to his chest and back.

    Caitlin had shoved her hands into the pockets on her lab coat. “That’s resistance from the datastream. The interface isn’t calibrated to your neural profile. Just try to wiggle your fingers.”

    It seemed like everyone was holding their breath as they watched Stacker Pentecost struggle to focus. He seemed hard in concentration, trying to remind himself how to move his hand.

    For a minute, nothing happened. Then, Pentecost spread his fingers, fanned them out. An incredibly loud _klank_ was heard at the same time.

    Greyson’s jaw dropped. “What the hell was that?”

    Stacker made a fist, and from where they stood, the entire facility watched as the mechanical arm followed his movements.

    Jasper whooped. “It’s working!”

**_2015, April 24 – 18:34 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“ _Anak_!” William stuck his head out from the kitchen, yelling up the short flight of stairs for his child. “Dinner’s ready!”

    There was a loud _thud_ before Greyson started trotting down the steps. She made a beeline for the living room first, switching the channel from the _Supernatural_ marathon to the Channel 11 news.

    “— _the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. Less than twenty-four hours since a kaiju surfaced near Canadian waters_.” The screen switched out to feed of a giant robot and the monster they codenamed Karloff. “ _Citizens near Vancouver are on Cloud 9 now that the Jaeger Program is in tow. Around the world, people are_ …”

    Greyson had turned the volume up on the television set before pivoting on her heel, moving towards the dining table. “Our counselors at school have been asking us where we were planning to go after graduating,” she told her father as she helped set up the table.

    “Oh?” Setting down their food, Will asked, “So, what were you planning?”

    She spooned freshly cooked rice onto her plate before answering. “I was thinking… taking a year off?” Greyson replied cautiously. “Or, you know, not. UAA and APU have contacted me.” The girl shrugged slightly. “Maybe I’d join the National Guard, or the Army, or the Jaeger Program — who knows?” She pulled the plate of food closer to her. “I bet Tito Jasper can get me a shot. They’re recruiting their first group of pilots soon.”

    “You want to go into that training?” William inquired, raising a questioning brow. “Even going into tech could be dangerous.” He gave her a glance, ready to put his foot down, if need be.

    “Oh, come on.” Greyson took a bite of her dinner, listening to her dad’s words. “You know I’ve always wanted to go into something that would _help_ people. I mean, there _was_ that FBI phase.”

   “ _Oo, alam ko_ ,” her father muttered. _Yeah, I know_. “And I also know that in times like these — no one gets out alive. Especially with those fuckers coming out of the ocean.”

**_2015, September 23 – 12:09 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“You’re _kidding_ , right?” Greyson was standing with Raleigh just inside the door of the classroom. One minute until the lunch bell was going to go off. “Rals, tell me you’re kidding.”

    “Not one bit!” Raleigh was leaning against the door frame, shaking his head at her. The Becket’s hair had grown out in the month since school had started up again – their junior year.

    When the bell rang, the two of them were the first to exit through the door. Raleigh slung his arm over her shoulders as they walked down the ever-energetic hall. “Just imagine it with me, Sonny. Forget about the National Guard; we could be in the Jaeger Academy in less than a year!”

    She swung her backpack to her front, rummaging in its numerous pockets for her ear buds. “I can show you a Jaeger,” she started in tune to _Aladdin_ ’s ‘A Whole New World’. “Shining, shimmering, _splendid_!”

    Raleigh shoved her lightly, rolling his eyes meanwhile. However, he couldn’t help but laugh. “C’mon. Six months for training after recruitment.”

    “That is _if_ you get recruited,” she guffawed, maneuvering her way in between walking bodies.

    Defensively, Raleigh muttered, “Well, shit, that ain’t so bad.”

    “Yeah, it is. What about school? You know — graduation?” Greyson’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, trying to make a point. “ _College_? Have you even applied for anywhere?”

    Raleigh tossed his backpack under the cafeteria table they usually sat at with Jazmine and their friends. Greyson set her own bag beside his chair, taking a seat to his left. As Raleigh took his seat, he answered her; “No, Yance and I decided we’re not going to college. We’re joining the Rangers.”

    Monty Kobashigawa, a kid with an outdated mop top, sat at Greyson’s other side, setting down his lunch tray. “What’s this about joining the Rangers?”

    Greyson turned to him, over-exaggerating her actions. “Raleigh thinks he should go train with the PPDC to be a Jaeger pilot.”

    “Ranger Raleigh Becket.” Monty tested the name out. “Sorta has a ring to it, dunnit?”

    Raleigh reached over gave Monty a high-five in gratitude. He turned to Greyson again. “I mean, they’ve already gotten the first line of Jaegers out. And Brawler Yukon was _such_ a badass.” He ran a hand through his shaggy, blond hair. “Did you see her take out Karloff? Holy _shit_!”

    “Yeah,” she agreed, a proud smile on her face, “Caitlin and Sergio are total badasses.”

    “So,” Raleigh started, unceremoniously scootching his chair to her side, “you coming with us to join the big leagues?”

    “Ask her again when you’re actually old enough to join,” Jazmine laughed, kicking her brother under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-22-17.


	3. Young God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He says, "Oh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends  
> I'm the king and you're the queen and we will stumble through heaven  
> If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes  
> I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight."  
> \- Halsey

**_2016, May 18 – 19:41 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“But Dad!”

    “I said _no_ , Greyson. That’s final.”

    They had been arguing about it for weeks now. The seventeen-year-old Filipina wanted to enlist into the Program. The Becket brothers were doing it, so why couldn’t she?

    She pleaded with her father, but it was difficult to get him to listen to her when he was shitfaced drunk. “I won’t drop out of high school, I swear. I’ll take online classes after training. I can graduate, and then—”

    “Then go. Leave!” Will swayed, and then took a swig from his beer. “Leave just like your _fucking_ mother… Go off to war and never come back.”

    Tears pricked her eyes. A lump caught in Greyson’s throat. “You don’t… you don’t mean that…” She managed a few steps toward her father before he shoved her forcefully, almost throwing her off balance. Greyson had flinched when he raised a hand to her face, but stood her ground. “Daddy, please. You’re drunk—”

     “Fuck this Pan-Pacific bullshit, by all means, get yourself killed…” William slumped to the couch, leaning into the armrest. He started muttering to himself.

    Slightly jarred, Greyson reached for the beer in his hand, placing it on the coffee table. She quickly wiped away the tears that tracked down her stinging cheek.

    She threw a jacket on and pocketed her phone, checking the time. _Of course, barely eight o’clock and he’s already passed out_. Greyson left out the back door and headed to the 24-hour Holiday Stationstore close by.

    The cashier at the counter didn’t look up when she entered the convenience store. There were only a couple people milling around. As she wandered, the Anchorage Times newspaper caught her attention.

    On the front was a photo of a young Japanese girl, given the moniker Tokyo’s Daughter, wandering in the aftermath of the kaiju attack from a few days prior. There was a photo of Coyote Tango’s pilots near the bottom: Stacker Pentecost and Tamsin Sevier. Apparently, the latter had blacked out during deployment and Pentecost had to finish off Onibaba by himself.

    She tucked the newspaper under her arm after purchasing it, not paying attention to the door as she went. Greyson apologized to the man she’d bumped into, wincing as her throbbing cheek met the chilled air.

    “Sonny, what happened to you?” It was Yancy. God knew why he was even there. He placed a hand on her chin when she turned away, surveying the redness left behind by her father.

    Greyson pulled away, trying to play it off. “It’s nothing. He had too much to drink earlier and we got into an argument—”

    “Jesus, next you’ll say this isn’t the worst.” He brushed windswept hair away from her face, looking into her eyes.

    “I can handle it, Yance.”

    There was a short silence between them as they breathed each other’s air. “I know.” Yancy planted a feather-light kiss on Greyson’s lips, and she raised her hands to cup his face.

    The newspaper was forgotten on the snow-slick ground.

**_2016, June 19 – 11:17 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

Dominique Becket had passed away near the end of 2015, leaving behind her husband and three children. They were all aware it was inevitable. For the longest time, Dominique had been a heavy smoker. For the longest three years of their lives, each and every one of them were followed by a dark cloud above their heads, reminding them that time was fleeting, that she was slowly striding towards Death’s Door.

    It was a relatively clear day in Anchorage. Weather was not harsh. They had come to pay respects and say goodbye before Yancy, Raleigh, and Greyson left for enlistment. The local graveyard was empty apart from the lone Darcy and the Beckets, and a young couple a few meters down from them, visiting their own sad little grave.

    It was quiet. In fact, they were _all_ quiet. Yancy was crouched along the freshly cut grass, reading and rereading his mom’s headstone. He never moved.

    Greyson had the year-younger Jazmine tucked under her arm, shielding her from the unwelcomed winds and imaginary monsters that lurked in the shadows created by the tombstones.

    Raleigh was stood beside them, humming a song, every once in a while muttering a distinct lyric. It was French; Greyson gathered as much by the words “ _ne me quitte pas_ ” that she continuously heard. Possibly something Dominique had once listened to.

    Greyson kept her silence when Jazmine started to palm the forming tears from her eyes. To her humming brother, the youngest Becket said, “Shut up.”

 ** _2016, June 21 – 06:40 –_** **_Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_**

Raleigh was so busy looking around the Jaeger Academy center for a Jaeger pilot-lookalike that he didn’t watch where he was placing his feet. After some time, with the stumbling of said feet and bobbing of heads, the younger Becket voiced, “Is _that_ Sergio D’onofrio?”

    “For the sixth time, Rals, none of the Rangers are here.” Greyson had the one strap of her small backpack slung over her right shoulder, boots stomping along the linoleum flooring. There were people everywhere; would-be hopefuls from all around the state, the country, the globe.

     The entire place was a grossly heated locker of sweaty bodies.

    As they walked to the back of the center, Greyson’s eyes traveled from person to person, and all intent of joining the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps flew directly out the frosted window. “I can’t believe you guys actually talked me into doing this,” she grumbled aloud. “I can’t believe my dad let me leave.”

    Yancy slowed down to walk beside the girl. Greyson hooked an arm around his waist when his went around her shoulders (It wasn’t so hard, considering she was roughly six inches shorter than he was). He said to her, laughing the while, “We would’ve dragged you here anyway, kicking and screaming.”

    The trio got in line behind the rather large crowd of people, waiting to get their identification cards. Greyson made sure to stay between them, avoiding the feeling of being pushed up against other strangers.

    When the friends got to the front of the line, they were ushered to one of the eight opened windows. Respectively, all three gave the teller their names. “Becket, Raleigh and Yancy. Darcy, Greyson,” the raven-haired worker said in monotone. His piercing, blue eyes rested above darkened bags, and Greyson’s eyes followed his tattooed arm as he reached out with the cards. “Here’re your ID’s. Follow everyone to the auditorium for the opening address.” Oscar, his nametag read, pointed towards the opened double doors not too far away.

    Darcy and the Beckets walked around the impressively large auditorium, waiting for the Opening Ceremony of the recruitment event. Greyson was keeping an eagle eye out for Stacker Pentecost; she had heard from her uncle that he was forced to retire after his last run in his Jaeger, Coyote Tango. Later assigned as Marshal and decided to teach future Ranger and pilot recruits at the Academy.

    She wondered if the ex-Ranger still remembered her.

    “Look at all these people,” Raleigh said in astonishment, watching the growing throng of strangers among strangers. “Some of these guys look a lot more serious than us.” He was having a bit of trouble clipping his ID to his hoodie, and Greyson helped him out, much to her own chagrin.

    Yancy didn’t look at his baby brother or childhood friend as he replied. “Most of them _are_ a lot more serious than us.” Upon seeing the shared looks from Raleigh and Greyson, he stepped in between them, resting firm, reassuring arms around their shoulders. “Hey, _no pressure_.”

    Greyson shook her head, chuckling.

    “We’ll have a laugh, we’ll get ditched in the first cut, and we’ll go home,” Yancy finished listing.

    It was ten to seven when everyone was called to the stage, wherein a large podium stood. The Jaeger Academy emblem was displayed proudly at the front of it, the PPDC insignia on the far back wall. Numerous flags were hanging from the high ceiling. If she wasn’t so entranced with the setup, Greyson would have made a joke about it looking like a ComiCon panel.

   Someone shoved into the girl as they passed by to get a closer look, didn’t even bother to apologize. “ _Excuse_ you,” Greyson hissed to the stranger, offended that he kept on his merry way. Raleigh put a warning hand on her shoulder before she could say anything more.

    The guy was wearing red suspenders over his blue button-up. Most of his face was obscured by a cap. “Sorry, Short Stack.” And then he was gone like the wind, disappearing into the crowd like a ship at night.

    “Hey, asshole—” Greyson had taken after the stranger before the Beckets even noticed her assent.

    As if acting on a reflex, Yancy grabbed her wrist before she got too far. “Sonny, c’mon,” he said to her. “Let it go.”

    In response, Greyson muttered curse words into the wind, both Filipino and not. A few people gave the three odd looks, but then quickly turned away.

    The room’s atmosphere had changed dramatically, from being a tsunami of multi-lingual waves to a softer drizzle of lingering voices. Raleigh grabbed their attention immediately, pointing out that the new Marshal was on stage.

    Greyson huffed, crossing her arms and turning herself to face the front stage. If not for the large speakers, she probably wouldn’t have been able to hear the Marshal with how far back they were.

    “…This isn’t summer camp,” Marshal Pentecost said over the loud speaker. “If it seems like we’re trying to break you, it’s because we are. The kaiju won’t hold back, so neither will we.”

    Raleigh leaned into Greyson’s side, muttering under his breath, “Well, at least he’s honest.” He snickered when she rolled her eyes.

    A corner of Yancy’s lips quirked up.

    She stayed quiet as Pentecost continued on, unwavering: “We will grind you to dust, and only when we fail to do so will we find the stuff of legend — like the D’onofrios and the Gage twins — and all those whose names will live forever for having what it takes to be the knights of our time, standing watch at the edge of our world — ready for the dragons ahead.”

    Thousands of voices raised in cheers. Yancy nearly pissed himself laughing when Greyson flinched at the sudden noise.

**_2016, July 1 – 04:32 – Ted Stevens Int’l Airport, Anchorage, Alaska_ **

People from all over the country — the _world_ — had gone into the Academy in hopes of, according to Raleigh Becket, “joining the big leagues.”

    As should be and had been expected, not a lot that signed up for the Ranger training made the final cut; Greyson Darcy had been well informed of that possibility. More than a handful of those that didn’t quite make it far enough (most of them wash-outs, in the lightest of sense) were admittedly not sent home; many were transferred into Officer training, as qualified.

    The ones that didn’t wash out of the initial boot camp were required to finish the six months (twenty-four weeks, approximately) of continuous training; however, it was always sectioned off into three trimesters per eight weeks, so to Greyson, it, at first glance, appeared highly reasonable and didn’t seem so exhausting.

    Well, she wasn’t _completely_ wrong.

    “ _The five o’clock Alaska Air flight to Kodiak Island has been delayed for_ —”

    “You kidding me?” Yancy grumbled, pulling his ear buds from their snug placement in his earlobes. The blond got up from his seat in the waiting area and headed over to the airline counter, ready to start interrogating the attendants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-22-17.


	4. Nobody's Singing to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a blur don't remember what I heard  
> You said goodbye now I don't know where to turn  
> So I turn my radio up  
> Thinking I'm gonna find relief  
> But baby nobody's singin' to me.  
> \- Charice

**_2016, July 12 – 18:30 – Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“Alright, y’all. We’re done for the day.” The Kwoon Fightmaster clapped her hands to grab the attention of the recruits in the training room. “I’ll be to see you back here in two days. Dismissed.”

    As the Fightmaster left the combat room, a handful of Jaeger pilot hopefuls collapsed onto the mat, taking a moment for a breather. To them, it seemed like the days would continue on nonstop: conditioning, memorization, maintenance; a chronic buzz that tested the recruits through physical and mental demands.

    It was nearing a quarter to seven when majority of the people in the center decided to get up and head back to their dorms. Yancy Becket was forced to drag Greyson Darcy onto her feet before giving up and taking pity on her. She jumped up onto his back gratefully, and his hands immediately went back to hold her up.

    The wave of probationary cadet trainees exited the combat room, either heading to their rooms to crash for the night, or go down to the mess hall for a late dinner.

    Yancy’s steady, rhythmic footsteps started to slowly lull Greyson into a light drowse. She could feel rampant thoughts all but screech to a halt as she descended into a blissful—

    “Ms. Darcy, may I have a word with you?”

    Greyson’s head turned to the distinctive voice of their Marshal, Stacker Pentecost. Despite the three years since she had met him, Greyson felt like he hadn’t aged a bit. He was wearing a different suit from the last time she saw him, back at Opening Day recruitments. This one was more fitting to his lean frame.

    The older Becket carefully let Darcy drop back to her feet. He and his brother promised to save Greyson a seat at the mess hall before giving a quick and proper salute to the Marshal and heading off in the direction where a food paradise lay in wait.

    Greyson blinked at Marshal Pentecost, standing with her hands behind her back. Quietly, she asked him, “Did I do something, sir?”

    Pentecost didn’t exactly smile at her inquiry, but it was evident that he was amused by it – ever so slightly. “No, nothing of the sort,” he replied curtly. “Walk with me, Ms. Darcy.”

    And she did. Greyson followed beside Pentecost as they walked the halls of the Jaeger Academy, passing many faces she had begun to recognize.

    “As you should already be aware,” Pentecost introduced, “first cuts are yet to pass. Your marks have truly impressed me.”

    “Thank you, sir.” Greyson was starting to wonder where he would go with this talk. It wasn’t every day that a commanding officer would go out of his way to make friendly conversation with a cadet for no reason.

    “Many people who aim to join the ranks of Jaeger pilots sometimes do not,” Pentecost continued. “The same goes for any introductory rank within many military facilities.”

    Greyson nodded slightly, inclining her attention. “Yes, as far as my knowledge goes, anyone cut from the Rangers can be transferred to be Officers, or is either qualified to be taught the strings of other PPDC forums.” As she talked, Greyson had kept her eyes forward, watching her footing. It wasn’t until she finished that she looked back up at the Marshal. “Sir, I don’t understand. What’s this got to do with me?”

    The brown eyes of Marshal Stacker Pentecost seemed to soften, even by minuscule lengths, when he took a glance at the hopeful, wide-eyed cadet. Though of short stature and build, the girl had more kick in her than a fighting bull.

    From word-of-mouth, Greyson assumed he was aware that she was actually not failing her training thus far. As they say, first impressions were everything; the former United Nations liaison had seen something in Greyson Darcy at the time they were first introduced when she was younger, and it was surely lasting.

    “After some deliberation,” Pentecost started off, “and with a glowing recommendation from a reliable officer from J-Tech, the Corps realizes the potential you’ve got to be both a Ranger and an Officer.”

   _Glowing recommendation? Potential?_ The crease in Greyson’s forehead only grew deeper. “Sorry, Marshal, but I still don’t follow. And what do you mean _both_?”

    Pentecost almost smiled. Almost. “It’s rare for new trainees to be considered to take on Officer and Ranger training from the get-go, especially one as fresh as yourself. In fact,” the Marshal added, “there have only been a select amount of Rangers given the chance.”

    Greyson thought for a moment before answering him. “I heard that Secretary-General Kreiger promoted you as the Command Marshal just last month, after Japan. My uncle told me that you…” She trailed off, not even bothering to finish.

    She figured that the Marshal could guess where her point was being made. Sheepishly, Greyson voiced, “Senior members are more likely better for these things. What even qualifies me?”

    Upon realization, she added a quick: “Sir.”

    “Compatibility, Ms. Darcy,” was the straightforward answer the Marshal gave her. To Greyson, it was anything but.

    “Compatibility, sir?”

    “ _Drift_ Compatibility,” he clarified. “Being able to trust the person you are with; having the ability to really connect with that person. Or persons.” Marshal Pentecost stopped walking. Greyson was confused as to why before she realized they had gone the long way to the mess hall.

    They both looked into the hall and immediately spotted the two Beckets off to one side, speaking animatedly to one another. It was then that she understood: The three of them were Drift Compatible.

    “I thought the Pons System was designed for only _two_ pilots,” Greyson wondered.

    “For now,” Pentecost answered. “Doctor Lightcap is overseeing further developments with the Pons. Your Compatibility-match with the Beckets opens a door for the Jaeger Program; you are the only other group to have three compatible partners, apart from the Wei triplets.” He turned to her again. “As of now, I’m afraid to say, that advancement may take years, which explains focus on Officer training. You show promise.”

    Greyson nodded, accepting the compliment for once. “Thank you, sir. I’d be happy to help anyway I can.”

**_2016, September 11 – 09:48 – Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

The phone kept ringing. And ringing. No one ever picked it up. Greyson Darcy was out on the tarmac to the Academy, trying to call her father. Reception inside the facility was next to shit; anyone would vouch for that.

    _He’s probably just out of the house_ , Greyson had thought. It was her father’s birthday today; he was turning 48. Neither of them had made the attempt to speak since the second term started again.

    Greyson tried calling his cell phone. Nothing. She decided to just leave a message. “Hey, _Tatay_. I’m just calling to tell you happy birthday. _At ano_ … Sorry I couldn’t be with you. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you proud, Dad.” She sighed, hot breath condensing in the cold atmosphere. “Call me back. Please.”

**_2016, September 12 – 12:23 – Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“He’s probably fine,” Raleigh Becket said, forking mashed potatoes into his mouth. Through a full mouth, he added, “Probably drank to his heart’s content — again.”

    They all knew how much William Darcy was capable of drinking. The worst hasn’t come around for a while. Yancy had seen the bruises on the particularly bad days.

    “He usually calls me back right away, though,” argued a worried daughter. “Even if he _was_ drunk,” Greyson sighed.

    Yancy turned the cup in his hands, as if examining its contents. “If anything, Will must still be asleep.”

    Greyson sighed yet again, shifting the pork and beans across her plate. “I hope so.”

    “Hey, so how are those online classes going?” Raleigh asked, aiming to change the subject. “Aside from training in the Kwoon and the shit they throw at us in the classes, I’m surprised you want to finish high school curriculum.”

    “In my defense, I made it through three years of high school. I’m not dropping out just because we joined the Jaeger Program.”

    Raleigh chuckled, raising his glass of water. “To the craziest girl in Alaska’s stark-white ass.”

    “Hear, hear,” Yancy called, tapping his glass with his brother’s.

**_2016, September 13 – 16:35 – Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

The cadet trainees were scattered in the Kwoon Combat Room. Raleigh Becket and Greyson Darcy were practicing their hand to hand combat. Currently tied.

    It looked like the latter was going to get the upper hand until an officer interrupted their sparring match. “Greyson Darcy,” he bellowed.

    The woman in question stopped what she was doing, and her partner followed her lead. Many people sneaked glances in her direction and looked at the man to continue.

    “Marshal Pentecost is requesting to speak with you, about an urgent matter.”

    She was out of breath. Hair had been long falling out of her ponytail. Raleigh and she shared a look, and the two of them turned to Yancy. “Yeah,” was all she said; “I’ll be there in a second.”

    It took all of five minutes to put her shoes on and shrug on her over-shirt as the officer led the way to the Marshal’s office, even though he didn’t necessarily need to. Greyson had been sent and called to that single office too many times to be good.

    She was ushered into the familiar, cubic room. Her eyes spotted the Marshal at his desk. “Sir, you had requested for me?”

    “Yes, cadet,” he answered, motioning to the figure seated before him. “I believe you know our visitor.”

    When Greyson saw her uncle, she didn’t care for any formalities. Jasper Schoenfeld stood, and opened his arms and engulfed his only niece in a warm hug. “Tito Jazz, what are you doing here?” she asked, looking up at him. “I thought you were in Hong Kong.”

    He smiled at her, but there was something else about him that made Greyson feel like he was masking something behind it. “I was in the neighborhood.” Simply stated, and it made her even more suspicious.

    “Did you go to see Dad?” Greyson asked hurriedly. _If he did, then he must know what’s been happening with him_. “He hasn’t returned my calls, I was—”

    “Gracie, that’s why I came,” Jasper said in a low voice. Sighing, he licked his lips, almost not wanting to tell her the situation. “Greyson,” he started again, “Richard Becket called me on the ninth. He said your dad was in an accident.”

    “Was he booked? Is that why he hasn’t called?” _Please. Please_ ; it was written on her face. Greyson only hoped that was the worst of it. But she knew when it came to her father, nothing was ever so simple.

    The look on her uncle’s features helped her read him like an opened book. Greyson didn’t need for her uncle to explain. She just didn’t. Instead, she asked, “What… what happened to him?”

    “Black ice and drunk driving, by my guess,” he replied. Coming off of her look, Jasper elaborated, “Someone else, not him. Mr. Becket was told that he was just walking; a hit-and-run. A pedestrian at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

    Greyson felt like the life was just sucked out of her. There was a moment where she felt a good cry coming, but she swallowed it down. She blinked away the tears and cleared her throat; the two of them weren’t alone. A question was at the tip of her tongue.

    “Doctor Schoenfeld’s arrival here is entirely unprecedented,” Marshal Pentecost started, closing the folder on his desk. “Now I understand the want to leave at a time like this. However, I cannot recommend it; especially considering you may miss qualifications.”

    To say Greyson Darcy had shot daggers into the ground would be an understatement. It was like being hit with a semi-truck. She exhaled a breath. “What would I need to do to be granted an emergency leave, sir?”

    The Marshal answered, “Once the request has been pulled through the proper channels, it ultimately would be up to your commanding officer.” Greyson’s lips pressed into a thin line, fully aware that he was her CO. But is she willing to risk going home before the next cuts happened?

    Jasper spoke up for his niece, questioning Pentecost. “Stacker, what are the chances she’d be recycled and left behind by this class?”

    “Fairly high.” He looked at the cadet, taking a moment before speaking. “Ms. Darcy, it is your decision. You can go home now and stall your training, or you can graduate with this class.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-23-17.


	5. Eyes of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So with every new lesson learned  
> I could keep you before it turns  
> And the knowledge that things won't be the same  
> Now I realize that you have won  
> And there's nothing to be said or done  
> And I notice the wind won't blow my way.  
> \- Seether

**_2016, December 23 – 15:10 – Kodiak Benny Benson State Airport, Alaska, United States_ **

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

    Greyson shared her worry with Raleigh as they waited in the airport. (Almost all the flights to Anchorage starting from yesterday morning to tomorrow afternoon had been booked by Jaeger Academy cadets and staff.)

    She looked around the crowded terminals before focusing on him again. Quietly, Greyson muttered under her breath, “I don’t think I can walk into that house alone.”

   “You won’t be…” Raleigh was going to say something else when the overhead PA announced the boarding of their flight.

    The two friends gathered their belongings and fell in line with the other passengers. Greyson breathed through her mouth, hoping to avoid smelling that god-awful airplane musk. She masked her distaste with a stiff smile when the flight attendants greeted them with their own plastic smiles and feigned kindness.

    Raleigh, ahead of Greyson in the silent shuffling of feet, turned his head back as he moved forward and marveled at the spiral staircase that led to the second floor of the large plane.

    She watched as Raleigh examined his ticket once more, keeping an open eye out for his seat number. Greyson made sure to follow him as her seat was partnered with his. After a few short moments, both Greyson and Raleigh came upon seats 21F and 21G. Like the overgrown man-child he was, the latter called for the window seat, leaving the former with the dreaded aisle seat.

    When all was stowed and snug, and the two of them were belted into their seats, Greyson took the liberty of time to scan her immediate surroundings, craning her head. She saw a handful of her fellow cadets here or there, scattered among the numerous seats. Yancy was not three rows behind them.

    A tap at her elbow soon took her attention. Greyson turned to her left, blinking at the man across the aisle. “Do you have any gum?” he asked, blinking back at her.

    From what Greyson could remember, he was a few years older than she was, with an older brother going into K-Science. Noah Geiszler was a J-Tech hopeful, and wasn’t one people would forget.

    Greyson chuckled a bit. “Nervous flier much?”

    “You could say that.” Noah smiled sheepishly.

    Within ten minutes, the cabin doors were closing and the stewardess started the same plane spiel as always. When the plane drove onto the strip and waited to take off, Greyson braced herself, holding the armrests firmly. She never had a problem with flying before, but today was different: It would be the first time she would return to an empty house.

    Raleigh took Greyson’s right hand into his left, linking his fingers between hers. She stole a glance at him, only to see he was staring out at the tarmac. His hands were cool, a nice contrast to her warmer ones. Greyson focused on the strong heartbeats that she felt pulsing in her hand.

**_2017, January 12 – 11:41 – Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson generally kept to herself whenever she took courses with the J-Tech recruits. The other students usually grouped together to gossip. She would always be thinking about her combat training, wondering how Caitlin Lightcap managed to juggle being a Ranger with J-Tech officer duties.

    “…there’s something new with the Pons System; I don’t know what. There’s been talk about people in the Program being Compatible with more than one person — hey, hey.” Tendo Choi looked back to his group of other trainees. Eyes landed on the form of Greyson Darcy. “Hey, Short Stack, quit daydreaming. Is there something _more_ important you’d wanna share with the rest of us?”

    Greyson’s gaze met Tendo’s when she looked up. She stowed her phone. “Absolutely not, _Choi_ ,” the girl shot back at him. A few people in their group snickered. “Tendo, _c’mon_ ,” she complained. “We already know about the Pons. We’ve got anything Lightcap ever puts out—”

   “—but we don’t know what J-Tech is cooking up. So we have to be ready with any new adjustments—”

    Greyson interrupted Tendo. Shaking her head, she said, “Whatever they are up to isn’t meant to be shared with anyone in this facility, not until we graduate.”

    “But you know anyway, don’t you?” It wasn’t Tendo who spoke this time, surprisingly. Greyson turned to Charles Kenton. From what Greyson knew, Kenton was a little over a year and a half older than she was; an ex-boxer from Texas that got into the new sport of the era — robot boxing.

    She smirked in his direction before answering him. “Well, Charlie, that’s something I’m not at liberty to say.”

    The man leaned forward in his seat, smirking. “You know, there’s a rumor going around about you.”

    “Enlighten me.”

    “Word has it that Jasper Schoenfeld came here a few months ago just  to see you,” he said matter-of-factly. “People say he’s the reason the Marshal favors you.”

    Greyson snorted, amused at the thought. “Have you ever heard of the Marshal favoring _anyone_?”

    “Ah, c’mon. Don’t play coy.” Charlie motioned to the other cadets around them. “How else can you explain taking up Jaeger Tech, and then training with the other pilot hopefuls at the Kwoon?”

    Tendo’s eyebrows rose, and the look on his face showed he was both impressed and confused. “What does he mean? You’re training to be a Ranger?”

    She didn’t know how to get out of this one. Greyson mentally kicked herself. Before she was able to make an excuse, their professor walked into the room.

**_2017, January 29 – 13:08 – Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, United States_ **

Greyson had been emailed by her high school counselor the Friday before, apologizing about how long it took for her early graduation request to be processed. Something about her father’s passing had complicated things, which was a bullshit excuse.

    She was about ready to call the school and give them a piece of her mind when a knock came to her room.

    “Happy birthday!” Yancy and Raleigh yelled in unison. The latter man held a piece of cake from the mess hall in one hand, grinning.

    “How the hell did you get cake?”

    Raleigh looked offended. “No one cares how I got the cake. Be grateful.”

    Yancy added, “It’s not every day someone turns eighteen, Sonny.”

    Greyson couldn’t help herself. She pulled both of the Beckets into a group hug, standing tall on the balls of her feet. “Oh, I love you guys!”

**_2017, February 6 – 10:23 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your lives.” The Anchorage Shatterdome officer smirked at the brothers, and then stepped out to tell Greyson which number her bunker room was.

    She dropped her bags at the brothers’ door before walking in after them.

    “I call bottom bunk,” Yancy had called out immediately, throwing his duffel bag onto the mattress. He sat down just as Raleigh did, and they shoved each other.

    “I told you _I_ wanted the bottom bunk,” complained Raleigh, pushing his brother’s things onto the floor. “Dibs is still in rule.”

    Yancy rolled his eyes. “Oldest chooses first,” he recalled, “second shuts his cake hole.”

    “That’s not how it works — that’s —”

    Greyson interrupted their bickering, starting to wonder if either of them remembered she even existed, and said, “Okay, now that we’ve affirmed that you’re both bottoms _and_ dorks…” Both Beckets gasped in unison: “Hey!”

    In only a few moments, they went back to their banter. Somehow, much to Greyson’s amusement, they started wrestling the other for the bottom bunk. It wasn’t long until the both of them fell off the side of the bed.

    Greyson only rolled her eyes before beginning her trek down the hall to her own room.

**_2017, February 10 – 15:57 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“Yeah, that’s what I got, too… We can try to run a sim, but it won’t be possible without the brothers’ help.” Greyson was on a call with Caitlin Lightcap. The Anchorage J-Tech team was already in the process of  setting up the new Pons interface in ordinance with the new specs.

    Caitlin’s voice came through the speaker. “ _Once the Weis have a successful Drift, the three of you will be brought down to the Simulation Room, don’t worry._ ”

    They talked about more specifications before Caitlin said, “ _I’ll send word to the Marshal soon to request your assistance in China, and then some of my team would come over to you. Here.”_

    A file appeared on Greyson’s holoscreen. “What’s this?” she asked the scientist, downloading the file.

    “ _The United Nations are coming through with the funds_ ,” Caitlin told her. “ _They’re pushing the PPDC to develop more Jaegers—_ ”

    Greyson’s phone beeped, indicating that another person was trying to reach her. It was an Alaska number. “Hey, Dr. Lightcap, I’m getting another call. Get back to you in a bit.”

    The person on the other end of the line was a lawyer, and he had informed Greyson that her father had left behind a will. Surprisingly enough, her CO allowed her the weekend to settle what she needed.

**_2017, February 11 – 12:34 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson had slept on the couch, with the television set on a low volume. The house felt so empty and incredibly quiet; it felt like some sort of tomb. After William’s death, Jasper and Richard Becket had assisted with the arrangements since Greyson was still away at basic. Jazmine volunteered to take care of the Darcy’s house and mail.

    For some reason, the county had overlooked the will and just found it recently. All settlements and other engagements were done before Greyson came back to Alaska, to save time. Things started to get more surreal when she found out that William had left her everything — the house, his accounts, _everything_.

    “You’re kidding.”

    “In my line of work, jokes are unnecessary.” The lawyer smiled. “Things would have been different if we discovered the will before you turned eighteen, but… It’s all yours.”

    Greyson’s head cocked to the side. “Different how?”

    Considering that her father had died months before she turned eighteen, half of the affects left in the will would have been given to Jane, her estranged mother. Given that the will wasn’t found until after the fact, situations changed. The two of them spent a good hour covering all the details before the lawyer left.

**_2017, March 4 – 14:12 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson Darcy had been sitting in the mess hall since lunchtime. Her room was just too quiet, and anywhere else in the area was too loud. The place was a happy medium, once everyone left.

    She was plugged into her phone, listening to songs through the wireless ear buds. Sitting alone at a table, the Filipina rested her sketchbook against the top, a mechanical pencil in hand. J-Tech had loaned her one of the glorified iPads called holoscreens to keep tabs on mecha upgrades, but the old fashioned way was more fun.

    Caitlin Lightcap and her uncle, Jasper, were assigned to the Hong Kong Strike Group, but they relayed new information all the time. Greyson was assigned to help a small group of J-Techs to replicate the specialized Pons interface that they were developing for a new Jaeger.

    Greyson didn’t jump in surprise when someone took to the seat beside her. The person in question had a bag of candies in his hand, plopping them into his mouth, one after another. He sat there for a while, watching. Raleigh Becket leaned over and gave Greyson’s sketch a quick once-over before speaking. “Gipsy Avenger… Is that a Jaeger in development, or what?” he asked her.

    Greyson pulled out one of her ear buds in order to hear him better. “One day, maybe,” the young officer sighed. “Not soon, I doubt, with some of the Mark 3s being launched within the year.”

    “Maybe your Jaeger could be the next Chrome. Or maybe Shaolin or Vulcan.”

    “Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you can’t wait four more months to be assigned to a Jaeger?” Greyson asked him, laughing.

    Raleigh unwrapped a piece of candy, then tossed it in his mouth. “Now, why you doin’ this all of the sudden?” he replied, avoiding the question.

    Off of Raleigh’s look, she explained. “Okay, so Hong Kong has been developing a new bridge for the Pons — thoughts on maybe having a three-pilot Drift to share the neural load so they can have an edge over the kaiju.”

    He looked thoughtful, keen on paying attention to her every word. “Is that what J-Tech has been up to for the past month? Damn, that sounds cool.” There was a silence; Raleigh seemed to think something over. “Would you do it?”

    Greyson waited a moment before replying to him. “Do what?”

    “Go through that Drift Simulator. With Yancy and me, I mean,” he clarified.

    “What makes you think we’re Compatible?” Greyson rebutted, smirking.

**_2017, April 20 – 19:38 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska_ **

“Where are you going?”

    Greyson Darcy turned around and looked at the man, Yancy Becket, who was leaning against the doorframe to Greyson’s room, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He was watching as she packed. “Something came up,” she replied simply.

    Yancy looked amused, crossing his ankles over each other. His head tilted when he spoke, looking at her with _that_ _look_ he knew she loved. “Well, then what’s _so_ important all the way in _China_?”

    Greyson rolled her eyes for show, turning around to hide her blush as she tossed a few shirts onto her mattress. “ _Stuff_.” She swiftly slid past Yancy when he walked further into the room. “And _things_.” Greyson finished, “I’m needed at the Hong Kong ‘Dome until Monday. It shouldn’t be too long.”

    “You never know that,” he muttered, lips in a small pout.  

    She knew what he was talking about. They didn’t know when the next attack would be; where it would be and where to start to figure everything out. There was a part of K-Science stationed on the Mariana Islands near the Breach, and their job was to monitor the oceans and assign codenames to the monsters.

    “All I know is…” Greyson trailed off momentarily, and then searched through the papers and files on her desk. “I can’t find the Manila folder I need.” She heard the flipping of pages behind her. Turning, Greyson snapped at Yancy. “Hey, give that back, you overgrown giraffe.”

    Yancy just laughed, raising his hand up and keeping the folder and its contents from her reach. “ _Giraffe_? That’s the best you got, child?”

    Greyson jumped, to no avail, missing the height of her goal by inches. The Becket came out in relentless laughter at the sadness of her attempts. “Yancyyy,” she groaned. “Yance. That’s not fair.”

    A smirk formed on his face as he watched her again. A fire in her soul was what she felt upon looking back at him. “You know,” Yancy started, lowering his arm behind his back, “you said those _same_ exact words once.” Chuckling, the man jutted his chin out teasingly.

    She flushed when he brought it up, but Greyson kept trying to get her folder. _His kiss, his touch, the way they felt like they belonged together_ — she shook her head, saying, “Three years makes a big difference.” Greyson ducked under Yancy’s arm to make a grab from behind, before he shifted it to his other hand.

    “The first,” Yancy retorted, tucking it under the front of his shirt all snug-like, “but not the last.” After a couple seconds, he admitted, “Rals still doesn’t know about us.”

    “Not possible,” Greyson guffawed, finally hugging Yancy around the waist. Her fingers laced together at his front. “Nothing is kept secret in the Drift, right? When you share that much head-space with someone…” She tried again to get her folder – another fail. Another groan.

    “I dunno, Sonny,” Yancy said, holding her wrists in place. “Sure, there are no secrets in the Drift, but couldn’t you consider that maybe… _maybe_ –” He pulled her arms from around him, turning again to face Greyson, hands sliding down her wrists to intertwine with her fingers “—certain things are just buried so deep that even the Drift _can’t_ pick through?”

    Greyson squeezed Yancy’s hands, meeting his eyes: blue to brown. Her eyes glanced at down at their wrists. The woman felt herself smile fondly; they’d been out drinking one night and decided to get matching wrist tattoos. Roman numerals were tattooed on her left, while similar numerals were on his right.

    “Maybe…” She let go of his hands, managing to finally grab a hold of the long-awaited Manila folder. “Or maybe Raleigh’s just really good at pretending.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-23-17.


	6. Lionheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we walk together into the light  
> And my love will be your armor tonight  
> We are lionhearts  
> And we stand together facing a war  
> And our love is gonna conquer it all  
> We are lionhearts.  
> \- Demi Lovato

**_2017, October 19 – 02:35 – The Ice Box, Anchorage, Alaska_ **

“I’ve never felt so alive, man!” Yancy Becket strutted by, clad still in his DriveSuit after coming back from their first ever deployment.

    Raleigh beamed, the happiest Greyson had seen him in a long time. “What time is it? Feel like I can run a marathon!”

    “When you get a chance to fight Godzilla toe-to-toe and not get killed, Mr. Choi,” Yancy said, “make sure to call us.”

    “For what it’s worth,” Tendo Choi started, “you’re giving the engineers a run for their money.” The chief officer snickered a bit, giving the person behind him a badly executed high five.

    The elder Becket punched their friend on the shoulder, telling him and Greyson Darcy a quick goodbye before he and his brother started toward the mess hall.

    She curtained her hair in front of her face when Yancy passed, noting the brief hand on her arm and the chaste kiss he left on her cheek. Greyson shook her head in amusement, picking through some files that were imported to her holoscreen.

    After a few moments, Tendo walked to the woman’s side. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, raising her head. “Can I help you with something?” Greyson inquired. “Was there something wrong with Gipsy’s—”

    “So. You and Yancy, huh?” he muttered, amused. His eye brows went up and down mockingly. “Have you done the horizontal tango? I hear it strengthens _the bond_.”

    “You are a _child_.” Greyson smacked him with a stack of papers.

    Tendo left the LOCCENT, cackling to himself.

**_2018, March 10 – 07:30 – The Ice Box, Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“ _Scenario concluded. Calculating score_ …” The Jaeger AI quietly ran over the Drift Simulation. The suit was hot; they were sweating from the exertion and it was becoming more and more humid. Heavy breaths, sore muscles – _I have to pee_.

    Greyson Darcy shook her head, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t sure which of the boys had thought it, but it was out there now.

 _We did it I think it went well._ That other thought flitted by so quickly she didn’t have a chance to figure out who conjured it either — was it her? She was tired, but her blood was pumping through her heart, and she heard it in her ears.

    The Conn-Pod echoed with the voice of the Jaeger AI after another moment. “ _Engagement time: twenty-four minutes and twenty-three seconds. Collateral damage within expected parameters. Kaiju Blue threshold maintained. Total score: 92.7 percent_.”

    Two weights shifted on her; minds continually melding with hers. Raleigh Becket crowed, unhitching himself from the rig assembly. And then it was gone.

    “That’s a personal best!” He threw his arms up, stepping off the platform.

    “Hell yes it is!” Yancy cheered back, beaming. He shot finger-guns in spite of himself.

    Greyson merely chuckled at their excitement, taking her helmet off. “I say, impressive for 12 drops and 9 kills, boys. We should probably work more on that last formation. If—”

    “C’mon, Sonny,” the oldest Becket loudly said, too stepping down from the platform in the Simulation Room. “We did good. Let’s go out to the bar tonight. Drinks on me.”

    Her whole face lit up, and she hurriedly detached from the new panel rig’s gunner controls. “Shots?”

    “Shots.”

    Raleigh whooped and started singing under his breath as they made their way to the DriveSuit Room.

**_2018, March 23 – 23:06 – Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

Some of the ‘Dome crew had gone into town for a break that Friday, all but filling out the usual haunt. It was a few minutes past eleven when Greyson received a message from the J-Tech crew, requesting her back to the Shatterdome for an overnight observation with new tech.

    Yancy offered to drive the Jeep back with her, whereas Raleigh wanted to stay with some of the other officers. As the duo left, they were sent off with wolf whistles, followed by complaints that they were lightweights.

    They were more than halfway to the Shatterdome when another message came, saying the team would take turns watching changes in the interface. She wasn’t needed until the third shift.

    Greyson sighed, staring at the dark road ahead. “What the hell am I gonna do for four hours?”

    The elder Becket slipped his hand under hers, linking their fingers, and then pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “Would it be a bad time to let you know I’ve got a Kama Sutra list?”

**_2018, May 15 – 21:40 – The Ice Box, Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson was outside the Marshal’s office, trying not to listen in on his angry rant towards the Becket boys. There was an argument after their last Simulation run; they’d wanted to try out a new move when Yancy chased the RABIT, and it caught Raleigh by surprise.

    The two of them had gotten into an all-out, bare-knuckles brawl in the town bar – broke a table, she heard – and Marshal Pentecost dragged their asses back to the ‘Dome before they could say anything.

    If she knew Yancy at all, she knew exactly what he’d been chasing. Greyson could tell they were talking about her.

    Pentecost’s voice was audible through his closed door. “You arses don’t know how lucky you are. You are _Rangers._ Not everyone has the chance to matter. Not everyone has someone to watch their back.” The Marshal had scoffed. “You would just throw all that away for — what? A girl? Tell me, are you men, or are you boys? Because I know which one _should_ be standing in front of me.”

    Continuing his tirade, Stacker let out, “The Jaeger isn’t what makes you feel three hundred feet tall. It’s the _bond_. You turn away from _it_ and I promise you the world will be a darker place. And you’ll always wonder if _together_ you could’ve made the difference.”

    There was a long pause. No one spoke until Yancy did. “Sorry, sir.”

    Raleigh added, “Won’t happen again, sir.”

    “I expect _not_. Get out of here.”

    Greyson straightened up when the door opened. Both boys were worse for wear, with swollen cheeks and bruised lips. “Oh, God… What the hell possessed you two to almost kill each other out there?”

    “You chose _him_ ,” Raleigh answered, avoiding eye contact with both of them. “I’ll just have to live with it, if we’re going to make this shit work.”

    “Don’t you dare play the victim here, asshole. How the hell was I—?”

    Stacker Pentecost stood in the doorframe. His presence alone stopped the three dead cold. “You two are dismissed. Miss Darcy, may I have a word?”

**_2018, August 22 – 14:34 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

Crimson Typhoon was launching in a few hours. The news was buzzing with the news – CHINA TO LAUNCH FIRST PILOT TRIO. The Wei Tang brothers were probably reveling in all the attention. Greyson was definitely irritable. When she had found out that she and the Beckets were not offered to pilot the first triple Conn-Pod in the new Mark IV, she was more than disappointed.

    Should the girl be grateful to have worked with the renowned Dr. Caitlin Lightcap on a ground-breaking project? Hell yeah, no doubt about it. Being able to pilot their finished product would’ve been the icing on the cake.

**_2019, December 21 – 01:09 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“Are the Kaiju Harvesters working for Chau?”

    “Probably. I heard he and the Marshal had a deal under the table.”

    Greyson tried to ignore the gossip that was always going around the Shatterdome. Someone would hear stories and rumors, and it would all blow out from there. First, it was about Stacker Pentecost having a child out of wedlock. Then, it was about the Australian Ranger Scott Hansen being reprimanded because of some disorderly conduct.

    The newly appointed Lieutenant Darcy was up on the gantry, watching over Scramble Alley. They were bringing Gipsy Danger in from the snow. The Beckets had just gotten back from their last deployment in Manila. They had assisted Horizon Brave and Lucky Seven; it was one of few team drops in Jaeger history.

    “Working hard or hardly working, lieutenant?” a voice called to her. Greyson heard Yancy before she saw him. She leaned into his touch when he threw an arm over her shoulders, planting a kiss to her temple.

    “What are you doing down here, Ranger?” Greyson looked behind Yancy, surprised to find him alone. “Wait, where’s Rals?”

    Yancy scratched the back of his neck. “Probably asleep. K-Sci was wanting me down for some new project, anyway.”

    “And this would be…?”

    “Oh, nothing. I just volunteered to Drift with a kaiju brain, that’s all,” Yancy deadpanned. When Greyson blinked up at him, not amused, he broke out into a smile. “C’mon, I’m _kidding_.”

    Greyson pursed her lips. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t hurt yourself. You know you’re fragile—” Yancy cut her off with a kiss to the lips, the kind that takes your breath away and makes the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy.

    He pulled away, starry eyed and grinning like a madman. “I promise to be on my best behavior, lieutenant.” Yancy started for the stairs, but not before saluting Greyson in jest. He turned around, calling back to her. “Hey! I love you!”

    Heat rushed to Greyson’s cheeks. She tried to suppress the broad smile that spread across her face. The lieutenant turned to the railing, listening to Yancy’s retreating steps. Her fingers felt at her lips, slightly swollen from the kiss.

    One thought raced through her head: _He loves me_.

**_2020, February 29 – 01:37 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska_ **

_Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep, beep bee—_

    Without looking, Greyson turned off the video comm alarm just by touch. She sluggishly rolled toward the wall beside her bed and opened the feed, blinking at the face of Chief Tech Officer Tendo Choi. Yawning, she asked, “What is it, Ten?”

    “ _Category 3 has been spotted heading our way from the Breach. From its speed, ETA five hours_.” Tendo disappeared from the periphery of the screen before turning back to the system, frowning. “ _Correction: ETA three hours from sector seven_.”

    She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, sitting up and patting down her hair. “Who got deployed?” Greyson hopped off her bed and shoved her boots onto her feet, shuffling to the closet and shrugging on one of her jackets.

    “ _The Beckets have been alerted and are heading on deck as we speak_ ,” answered Tendo, his fingers clicking on the keyboard and toggling switches on the console.

    Greyson pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. “Tell the techs in DSR to double-time it. Clear Scramble Alley. Have staff set Gipsy Danger in Bay 1, it’s closer.” As she searched for her belongings, she stopped, confused. “What happened to the Gage twins?”

    “ _California deployed them earlier, but the bogey didn’t pass the ten-mile line._ ”

    “Odd.” Greyson threw her ID lanyard around her neck before saying, “Heading to the LOCCENT; give me five.”

**_2020, February 29 – 03:23 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska_ **

Greyson sat beside Tendo in the LOCCENT, watching over the sensors as the other officer monitored their stats. Marshal Pentecost stood behind them, still steaming after the Gipsy Danger crew had saved a small boat and disobeyed a direct order.

    Things had not been looking good.

    “Yancy, you’re drifting,” she warned, confused at the readings. The holograms glitched, and Greyson just about had a heart attack. “What the hell…”

    Warning sirens. Something was wrong. She heard Raleigh scream, and then Yancy said through gritted teeth: “ _LOCCENT, we’re hit!_ ” The digital model of Gipsy indicated the loss of limb.

    Tendo scanned the readings, updating Pentecost on Gipsy’s mass damage. “Left arm’s gone cold, sir.”

    Within heartbeats, there was Conn-Pod breach, an overload that surged through her frame. The right hemisphere of Gipsy Danger shorted. Raleigh’s brain interface glitched in response. Their heads-up displays blacked out on the LOCCENT screens. “ _The hull! It went through the hull!_ ”

    “ _Right hemisphere: critical_ , _”_ the Jaeger AI informed them.

    Through the speakers, they heard Yancy’s plea. “ _Raleigh, listen to me, you need to—_ ”

    It took Greyson Darcy a few, long seconds for the advancement to seep in. Yancy’s side of the Jaeger circuits had gone dark. Yancy’s life support was glowing red. She heard Raleigh’s anguished cries for his brother. Lights went off, manual switches activated.

    “ _Crisis Command Matrix: engaged_.”

    The green turned red. Pentecost looked at the alerts on the screens, brows furrowed. “What’s happening?” he asked.

    “He’d been pulled out of the Conn-Pod, sir.” Greyson was dumbfounded. “It knew they were in there. When did they figure _that_ out?!”

    “They’re getting smarter,” Pentecost said under his breath. His eyes narrowed.

    Greyson turned to the Marshal, heart beating a thousand miles an hour. “Sir, the matrix was loaded. Do you want me to connect the Pons?” She hoped his answer was ‘yes’; after all, he was the only other Ranger to have piloted a Jaeger alone.

    Pentecost looked at her, and then at the screens. Raleigh had fully taken over Gipsy Danger. “No,” was the answer she received.

    “But sir! I’m the only one—”

    “One direct order has already been disobeyed, Ms. Darcy. Don’t make it two.” The Marshal was firm with his answer, and Greyson only huffed, nodding stiffly.

    Then Tendo said something that caught even Greyson completely off guard. “Plasma cannons are overloading—”

    Static. GIPSY DANGER – STATUS: INACTIVE. Then, it disappeared in the exact moment as Knifehead’s signature. Greyson’s heart dropped.

    “The second discharge fried all the comms, sir, I’m not getting any signals,” Tendo reported, trying to toggle with the switches. “No signatures, sir!”

    Greyson sat frozen in her seat, staring at the back of their Marshal. He walked away from the station, silent. She realized that she had stopped breathing.

    “What do we do now, sir?” Tendo’s voice was steady, but Greyson knew he was as shocked as anybody.

    “Send out the Jumphawks to their last coordinates.” Stacker pivoted on his heel, and abruptly stopped. “Darcy, find out what the hell happened.”

    Greyson sighed, dejected. The shock had yet to set in. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-24-17.


	7. Golden Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh don't you wonder when the light begins to fade?  
> And the clock just makes the colors turn to grey  
> Forever younger growing older just the same  
> All the memories that we make will never change.  
> \- Panic! At the Disco

**_2020, March 2 – 00:47 – Anchorage Medical Center, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson Darcy had requested to meet the Jumphawks at the closest hospital when she heard Raleigh was found on a beach off the coast of Anchorage. A man and his boy had stumbled upon him – or was it the other way around?

    They were told Raleigh had gotten out of the opening on Gipsy’s head, the same place where Knifehead had ripped Yancy from them. He was incoherent and bloody, but conscious until the PPDC arrived. Tendo had come along with a handful of other ‘Dome staffers to visit, but she stayed. She had been by his side since he arrived.

    Raleigh Becket looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed. So broken.  The doctors had stitched up a gash on the right side of his face and treated the circuitry burns on his left arm and torso. He’d have to live with that for the rest of his life, a permanent reminder that Yancy was gone.

    Oh, God. Yancy was gone.

    Greyson was sitting beside his bed in the world’s most uncomfortable chair, just watching Raleigh in the stark white room. He was hooked up to a bunch of machines, the kinds of which she only saw on television. She found comfort with holding his right hand between hers; she needed to feel his pulse, to know he was doing okay.

    Apparently, news of the fight had gone around quickly. People had been sending well-wishes to Raleigh, mourning the loss of Yancy, and other news outlets were questioning the effectiveness of the Jaeger Program. Greyson had gotten sick of everything on the television except for the Marvel Movie Marathons, those never got old. It had been a while since she’d been able to catch a movie.

    Greyson was brought back to the present when her phone started receiving notifications. She supposed the signal had just come back in. Some were from social media accounts, but there were handfuls of texts. Jazmine Becket, the youngest of the siblings, said to call her as soon as possible. An Australian number had sent condolences about Yancy; she assumed it was someone from one of the ‘Domes.

    One name stood out to her, however. _Charlie Kenton_. He was in their graduating class and once worked with her in J-Tech. Last she heard of him, he had resigned from the Jaeger Program and gone back to the robot boxing life.

    The man had left a lengthy message, saying there was talk in the network about a fried DriveSuit model being transported from China. No one knew where it came from. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he thought it was suspicious.

    Greyson was in the middle of a reply when she nearly jumped out of her skin. Raleigh had groaned and reached for her hand. He was finally awake! His blue eyes blinked at the lights, searching around the room.

    “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” The lieutenant got up from the seat, taking his hand. When she looked closer, she noticed fresh tracks of tears falling from his cheeks to his ears. Her heart ached.

    In a low whisper, she tried to comfort him. “Hey, shh. You’re going to be okay, you’re safe. It’s okay.” She squeezed his hand. Greyson knew he was hurting, both physically and mentally. And despite the years since her last Drift with either of the brothers, she could feel his hurt, too.

    “He’s gone” were the first words Raleigh had croaked out. A sob escaped his lips. Greyson hopped on the hospital bed, trying not to aggravate his injuries. She pulled Raleigh into her as his sobs worsened, shaking him. The blond Ranger cried into her shoulder as she lightly ran her fingers through his hair.

    Raleigh hadn’t been this devastated since his mother died and their father walked out on them. She didn’t dare cry. Not now. Not when it was her turn to protect him from the monsters.

**_2020, March 9 – 05:13 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

"The Marshal wants to see you in his office." It was Tendo.

    Greyson popped out of a Jaeger hull, hair askew and dirt on her chin. "Seriously? Right now?" It was obvious that Greyson didn’t want to trudge back to the Marshal’s quarters to be briefed — especially not after what happened. She re-tied her hair and tried to clean her face.

    “Am I good?”

    Tendo just shrugged. Not a chatter box, that man. But of course, Greyson had found that from the four years they’d worked together, despite their hot-and-cold relationship.

    He offered his hand to Greyson, helping her out before she headed to Pentecost's main office on the forty-seventh floor. Before she was even able to make contact with the door, the Marshal called for her to enter.

    He was turned away from her when she walked in, looking to one of the monitors in his room. A handkerchief was being tucked into his breast pocket when he finally pivoted around to face her.

    Greyson blinked a few times before clearing her throat and saying, "Sir, requested for me?" The Marshal nodded slightly to her inquiry, offering for her to sit in an unoccupied chair. With her jaw taut, Greyson obliged, forcing her feet to move forward.

    Entering his quarters for the second time that week, she began to ponder on her life choices, among other things. It was five in the morning; the girl hadn't slept well since before Gipsy Danger's deployment. But she kept telling herself that was fine.

    She was not fine. And the Marshal could see it. He sought her attention. "Ms. Darcy?"

    Greyson’s shoulders straightened. “Sir.”

    "I have an assignment for you."

    Confused, Greyson made a point to look at the Marshal. Her head cocked to the side. “May I ask what this assignment is, sir?”

    "We need you to go through an assortment of routine checks with the Shatterdomes along the Pacific Rim,” Marshal Pentecost explained. “I fear the United Nations might question the efficiency of mecha protocol.” He walked over to his desk, shuffling through a few Manila folders before picking out the right one. “Checklists are in here. A preloaded holoscreen has been updated; please keep it with you at all times.”

    Greyson accepted the folder and skimmed through its contents, glancing at the technological glass-screen. She asked, “By ‘routine checks’, sir, you don’t mean an audit, do you?”

    "An internal audit, of sorts. Evaluate performances of the remaining Strike Groups, on top of J-Tech and K-Science,” he said. “This isn’t a spur of the moment request, lieutenant."

    Greyson cleared her throat, licking her dry lips. “Marshal, that seems… like quite a lot to do in such a short time, considering what had transpired.”

     “The unfortunate loss of Gipsy Danger is precisely why we need this done.” Stacker Pentecost took a few steps in her direction, lips pressed into a thin line. "Now I had the impression you were wanting some time away. This is it."

    The woman narrowed her eyes visibly, a corner of her lips quirking inward. "I know you said ‘internal audit’, and I’m not questioning your judgment at all, sir… But I’m not the right person for this job."

    No immediate response was given from the Marshal. It was as if he wanted her to stew. “We wouldn’t have chosen you if otherwise.”

    "Look, Stacker—" He gave Greyson a pointed look, and she immediately cut herself off. “Marshal,” she said, correcting herself, “Why was I given this assignment? I’m needed _here_. Raleigh needs me here.”

    “I believe Mr. Choi and our ‘Dome counselors have got all that covered,” the Marshal said in short. After a moment, he said, “I’d like you to answer me one question: why did you sign up to join the Jaeger Program?”

    Greyson had to think for a moment. Honestly, she said, "Sir, I signed up because Yancy and Raleigh Becket were trying to win a bet, and I didn't want to be left behind. Things were never great at home.”

    “Then why did you stay?”

    “I’d wanted to be a part of history,” Greyson answered, “ever since I watched you move that mech’s arm in Pittsburgh.” It wasn’t the only reason she had stayed all these years, but it was one. “Now, pardon me if this sounds disrespectful on any level, Marshal, but  _my best friend just died_."

    Greyson’s eyes started to prick with tears, and she could feel every fiber of her tearing apart. It had been a week since the incident happened, and she only just let the gravity of it catch up with her. “Sir, I may not be able to  _handle_ this.”

    Stacker Pentecost never called her out on succumbing to her emotions. Instead, he stood in front of where she sat, placing an uncharacteristically kind hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Darcy, believe me, I understand the feeling of losing someone to these monsters. But I know I can trust you with this."

    The intercom went on in the Marshal’s office. " _Sir, Jumphawks are ready when you are._ "

    Pentecost straightened up just as Greyson’s head turned to see Tendo Choi’s feedback sign off. "Wheels up before the end of the day. That’s an order," the PPDC Marshal said. "I hope you understand that Mr. Becket is not your only priority."

**_2020, March 9 – 17:23 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“How long will you be gone?”

    “Not sure,” Greyson sighed. “A few weeks at most.” She rolled onto her side, resting her head against her opened palm. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

    They were both sprawled on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Raleigh Becket and Greyson Darcy were lying opposite each other, content with the other’s presence. He was allowed to return to the Shatterdome after staying a few nights for ‘evaluations’.

    “Yeah,” the blond replied lamely.

    Another silence blanketed the two.

    “Jazmine contacted me before you woke up at the hospital,” Greyson said abruptly. “She was wanting to fly over and see you, but—”

    There was a knock on the door. “Darcy,” a voice called. It was Melanie, one of Gipsy Danger’s techs. “Feet up in ten. Larkin and Benedict are waiting.”

    Raleigh and Greyson said their probably-took-too-long goodbyes. She pressed a feather-light kiss to his temple, promising to call when they landed.

    The ride up the elevator was uneventful. One of the Jumphawk guys, Christopher Larkin, walked up and met Greyson on the helipad. He grabbed her bags, nodding a hello, and turned to load the chopper. As Greyson stepped inside, the wind outside picked up, blowing a light drizzle in behind her.

    "Hey, Chris?"

    "Yes, Greyson?" Chris replied with a quirked lip. He looked at her, eyes urging her to continue.

    Greyson asked, "How long's the trip to Vladivostok?"

    "Five hours," Rob Benedict — J-8’s pilot — cut in. "Give or take, ten minutes." He had adorned his muffs, bull-cap, and sunglasses. Looked stern. But then, a smile lit up his face. "Ms. Darcy," he greeted.

    "Mr. Benedict," she replied with a curt nod as she buckled into the seat.

    "Get ready, because we'll be spending a  _lot_ of time together.”

**_2020, March 10 – 10:12 – Russian Shatterdome, Vladivostok, Russia_**  
"So you _are_ sure that—? Er…” Greyson Darcy hesitated, her mind thinking of the correct words to say, before she said, “ _Vse rabotayet normal'no_?" Her voice had cracked. She grinned sheepishly at the bay worker, completely aware that her Russian sucked more than a vacuum.

    " _Da_ ,” the worker, West Collins, told her. “Everything is fine, as they should be." The boy was sporting a head of swift, light brown hair, a jumpsuit, and yellow earmuffs. “The Rangers have been doing well.” It was obvious the long-legged man of six-two height was slowing down his pace to make up for the woman’s height of five-four.

    Greyson nodded at Collins, scribbling down incoherent things onto the holoscreen, most of which were out of order. _Eh. I'll sort it all out later_ , she thought quickly to herself.

    The two of them walked for a few more minutes. She asked him more questions, and when he answered them, Greyson made sure to keep record. Eventually, with that done, the Filipina started to head towards the LOCCENT of the ‘Dome. On the walk there, Greyson could hear hard rock music blasting out from somewhere in the immediate area. When she turned in search, it was evident that the sound was coming from the direction of the Cherno Alpha team's hangar bay. Aleksis and Sasha Kaidonovsky, the married Rangers of the respective Jaeger, were overseeing the Jaeger tech team as they worked on their baby.

    " _Ostorozhno!_ "

    Confused and caught off guard, Greyson stopped walking, in search of the voice’s whereabouts; wrong move on her part. A cart swerved around her, causing a couple boxes or more from the top file to fall off and tumble on the ground. Her cheeks grew red with embarrassment. “Man, I'm sorry!" she immediately apologized.

    "Told you to _watch out_ ," the Russian Shatterdome worker spat at her. The man hopped off the carrier and made to pick up the scattered cargo. After he stacked the boxes back to where they belonged, he drove the cart away again, muttering sweet nothings to himself, scoffing out loudly so she could hear: “Americans are always so troublesome."

    Greyson frowned then upon hearing the insult and ended up staring after the guy as he disappeared into a sea of people.

**_2020, March 16 – 21:58 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

Saying that a little jet lag had already crept up on the PPDC staffers was an understatement. Greyson had stayed up early into the mornings, sorting through notes and papers and folders and all of that compacted on a computer. She had slept hours at a time, shifting in cold sheets. When she and the crew had arrived at Sydney, they were escorted through the hangar bay and to the sleeping quarters of the Australian base.

    Greyson was already sluggish as she forced herself to keep walking. Sleep was like a plague, slowly catching up with everyone there. Ahead of her, Greyson watched as Chris Larkin and Rob Benedict made conversation with the technician who had volunteered to escort them. 

    The four of them were quiet in the lift, most of their energy having been taken during flight. When the doors opened to a floor ten levels below their destination, Greyson was mildly surprised — not of the corridor, but of who stood before it. She could definitely spot that man in a crowd.

    "Ah, Greyson Darcy. What a sight for sore eyes." And apparently, the same goes for Hercules Hansen.

    The unexpected encounter shocked Greyson enough to straighten up at the voice, weariness forgotten. A polite smile spread on her lips as she held her hand out. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Hansen.”

    “Likewise, Miss Darcy,” Herc replied, grasping her petite hand firmly in his. To his son, he muttered, “Be nice.” All Greyson got from Chuck Hansen was a curt nod.

    Herc sparked up a discussion with the group about the new blueprints on the Mark V-E. Greyson was nearly as excited for it as the senior Hansen appeared to be; there had been a lot of talk lately about the new mark finally being prototyped.

    When the elevator doors opened up again, the tech exited and led the visitors with purpose. Herc began walking with them, not wanting to leave the topic unfinished. Greyson found it a nice change to be seeing a more familiar face again when — "Dad!" — the group’s little endeavor of mecha talk was cut short by the young man still standing in the elevator.

    Chuck held the door open, eyes staring in question at his father. "This isn't our floor," he explained more elaborately when no one replied. 

    Greyson masked a chuckle as a small cough, hiding her grin as well as she could. Herc nodded at his son, turning to the others apologetically. “I suppose this is where I must leave you all,” he said. “G’night.” Everyone acknowledged his good-bye, nodding or returning it in kind.

    Before Herc fully stepped into the lift, Greyson spoke in the direction of his son. “Good night to you, too, Charlie.”

    “It’s _Chuck_ ,” the latter replied in monotone. A slightly annoyed expression appeared on the man’s face. Whether or not it was at memories of her from their last encounter or the look his father had given him, she didn’t know.

    The elevator doors closed before either of them could dwell on the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-25-17.


	8. Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday is history  
> Tomorrow's a mystery  
> I can see you lookin' back at me  
> Keep your eyes on me  
> Baby, keep your eyes on me.  
> \- Justin Timberlake

**_2020, March 19 – 12:43 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

“Raleigh, please, don’t do this… No. You’re just not _thinking_ straight—” Greyson pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a loud sigh as Raleigh continued to argue with her over the phone.

    “ _I’m a damned left-over, Sonny! It’s almost worse than death. What use am I here? Yancy’s dead and you just about abandoned me, too—_ ”

    “I’ve been gone ten days! Rals, can’t you at least wait ‘til I get back? We need to talk about this face-to-face…” She was interrupted when someone called her name. Turning, her eyes fell on the ginger Australian approaching her.

    “Hey, Darcy, I was wondering if I could talk to you,” Chuck Hansen started when within earshot. Max, his loving bulldog, was attached to the end of the leash firmly in his hand.

    She motioned to the phone in her hand. "I'm a little busy right now, Hansen." Greyson made a face when Raleigh made a snide comment. Over the phone, she said, “I wasn’t talking to _you_ , asshat.”

    Chuck followed closely behind, keeping Max beside him. When Greyson realized the young man before her wasn’t going to stop following her any time soon, she promised Raleigh she’d call back. “What is it that you want, Charlie?”

    “I told you, it’s Chuck.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot back in Manila.”

    “I’m over it,” Greyson muttered, almost unconvinced herself. _I try to be nice once and it smacks me in the face_ , she thought bitterly as she looked back to her first meeting with the Hansens.

    Greyson had noticed Chuck’s obvious distaste for Herc and mentioned how he should have been grateful that he even had his father, as she wished she had hers, flaws and all. He had said he didn’t favor a father who’d abandoned his mother to die, and it struck a nerve in her.

    “Yeah, no. You don’t seem like you’re over it,” Chuck pointed out, a corner of his mouth turning down. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I was young and naïve and—”

    “You’re wearing a ‘Shazam!’ shirt from Hot Topic right now.”

    “What? A guy can’t have good taste?” His brows rose, defensive. “Fine. I was young _er_ ,” Chuck finished, extending the final syllable. “My apology still stands.”

    Greyson stopped walking and turned fully to look at Chuck. Her face was passive, unreadable. The woman’s demeanor lightened slightly. Her eyes scanned his. "Was that all?" she asked quietly.

    "I guess?” He let out the words as if asking himself if it were true. “I dunno. I didn’t expect to get this far,” Chuck continued. “I felt bad and — just... I know that you were close with pilots of Gipsy Danger—"

    This time, it was Greyson who cut him off from finishing his statement. “There’s still one of them waiting for me back home. The faster I finish these rounds, the better.” She pivoted on her heel, turning away from the boy a few good inches taller than she was; four, according to his program dossier.

    “You don’t know, then.”

    “I don’t know what, exactly?” Letting go of an exasperated sigh, Greyson met Chuck's gaze.

    He shrugged at her, assuming, “I’d have thought the Marshal would’ve told _you_ first, considering—”

    “Told me _what_?” she asked again, frowning that he kept stalling.

    He finally relented. Chuck walked up to Greyson, and then fell into step with her as they walked. “You know the Marshal?"

    "Obviously.” She snorted, amused at his question. “He's everyone’s CO."

    "Right." Chuck scratched the back of his head, licking his lips as he thought. “Word has it that he knew the reason Yancy Becket was attacked. People say some weird shit is happening up in the Ice Box.”

    Greyson was dumbfounded. _Was this kid a weird conspiracy theorist?_ The look that immediately found its way to her face gave away her thoughts. “That’s impossible,” she breathed. “Knifehead killed Yancy, tore him out of the ConnPod. Stacker had nothing to do with it. Weird shit, or otherwise.” For good measure, she added, “I’d have heard about it.”

    A crease appeared between Chuck’s brows when Greyson called the Marshal by his first name, but didn’t particularly dwell on it. “I know you’re familiar with the Drift sequencing; how it helps to balance out the neural load between two Rangers to be able to ride their Jaeger.”

    “What about it?”

    Chuck gave her a glance from the corner of his eye, narrowing his eyes. “Never mind. They’re just… some stupid theories that’ve been circulating the ‘Domes.”

    Greyson was convinced that the ‘theories’ the young Hansen was speaking of were definitely not ‘stupid’. She wasn’t close with either Herc or Chuck, but she knew enough that they were good Rangers, and they wouldn’t believe some crazy, whack job story unless they found a reason.

    As she walked away, the lieutenant almost wished he had told her his crazy stories.

**_2020, March 23 – 14:29 – Los Angeles Shatterdome, California, United States_ **

"Gracie! Sweetheart, it’s been too long."

    Greyson excused herself from the other ‘Dome workers when she heard her uncle come through the corridor. A smile lit up her face prominently. She met him halfway, calling out, "Tito Jasper! What are you doing here?”

    After all but burying Greyson in a hug, Jasper Schoenfeld laughed. "When was the last time I saw you, kiddo?”

    She shrugged lightly, pulling back from him. “Hong Kong, I think, when Typhoon was still in development. How are Tita Nancy and Robbie?”

    "Well, you know... still divorced,” Jasper told her, albeit a little glumly. He continued, “Robert's been good. He's starting high school this September. Real excited, that kid." The professor kept his arm around his niece’s shoulders as they walked. He turned his head to look at her. "How are you?"

    She answered him forthright. “The last few weeks have been" — Greyson cleared her throat — "eventful."

    A sympathetic look was all Jasper gave Greyson in return. "I heard about the Beckets. I’m so sorry.”

    She reminisced in the days when everyone was younger, happier. During birthdays, the Schoenfelds would fly out to Anchorage, and the Darcys would travel down to California when theirs came around. Pulling her from the old memories, Jasper muttered absentmindedly, “Now which of the brothers was it again? Raleigh, right?"

    "No, it was, uh, Yancy... the older brother,” Greyson corrected, all enthusiasm having been sucked out of her.  The woman played with the edge of the holoscreen in her hands. "Raleigh has been put through some therapy. Medieval stuff, really.”

    Jasper nodded as she spoke, shifting to shove his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t imagine what he’s had to go through, losing his co-pilot like that.”

    “He’s thinking of quiting," she blurted out. “Says a left-over isn’t fit to be milling around any Shatterdome for too long, unless he gets re-stationed.”

    Greyson’s maternal half-uncle stopped short of his stride. "I never realized it was that bad." Sheepishly, Jasper scratched the back of his head. “If it’s any consolation, you and your crew are welcome to accompany me and Lars into town for dinner tonight. Give you a break from work, you know?”

    A genuine smile started to tug at the corners of Greyson’s mouth, and she eventually found herself grinning up at her uncle. “I’ll talk to the others later. The fresh air could do us all some good.”

    This was the day that Greyson Darcy first met the man behind the Wall of Life Program and got on the bad side of things with Lars Gottlieb.

**_2020, April 7 – 06:12 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

“With all due respect, sir, what the hell do you mean he was _dismissed_?”

    Marshal Pentecost didn’t look up at Greyson as his eyes scanned the papers scattered across his large desk. “Miss Darcy, let me make it simple: Mr. Becket voluntarily withdrew from the program.”

    Greyson wouldn’t have it. Raleigh wouldn’t do that. At least not while she was gone. Would he? “Sir, there’s got to be an explanation why he’d—”

    “Mr. Becket had made a decision, and it was to leave the Jaeger Program on his own terms.” Pentecost’s fingers folded atop his desk. His eyes flickered upwards to Greyson’s steady form, her feet planted firmly. “As it is, he has suffered from clear post-traumatic stress, not to mention survivor’s guilt.”

    Off of her stiff nod, the Marshal changed the subject: “Now, I’ve been to see the files you created while on your assignment; however, your overall report hasn’t been filed.”

    “It’s… getting there, sir,” Greyson replied bleakly, avoiding the obvious truth: her procrastination skills had usurped her attention with any paperwork. She cleared her throat rather loudly when she realized that Pentecost probably realized she’d bent the truth. “…I’ll start on it,” she finished sheepishly.

    A corner of the Marshal’s lips turned up ever so slightly. “So I’d thought.”

    “Permission to be dismissed, Marshal?”

    “Actually, no; there was another reason I had called you here.” Greyson watched as Stacker Pentecost stood up from his greatly official-ized desk chair, buttoning up a slot from his blazer. “As I come to understand it, you have recently become aware of a little problem the Defense Corps has run into the past few years.” He walked around the large oak desk before sitting on its edge.

    Greyson held her hands behind her back, interest piqued by the change in the Marshal’s approach. “I assume we’re talking about Dr. Lars Gottlieb, sir?” The Marshal’s eyes never moved from hers. An amused smirk painted the expression Greyson now wore. “We didn’t divulge very far into the topic after I had thrown the remaining contents of my Cherry Coca Cola at him.”

    Knowing full well that was not what he had wanted to hear, Greyson continued on with her story: “From what he said, the Jaeger Program was close to being null and void.”

    Pentecost’s eyes narrowed as he asked, “How so?” Momentarily, she watched him lock his fingers in front of him.

    “Many representatives in the United Nations believe that our program is only a hypothetical benefit to humanity,” Greyson explained, relaying what the senior Gottlieb had said before; “that we’re throwing away our currency on useless, pampered, gargantuan sparring G2s.”

    “Was this when you drenched him in your Cola?” an uncharacteristically amused Marshal inquired. The bitterness in his voice implied he didn’t quite appreciate his old friend comparing the three-story mecha protectors to man-sized fighting ‘bots.

    “Absolutely not, sir.” Greyson had eased a bit, the riled up tension from before dissipating. “Gottlieb said the KJs wouldn’t think of attacking the dubbed Wall of Life, the Anti-Kaiju Wall that he had proposed. Said something along the lines of, ‘the coastlines and our wallets would be safe’.” She just couldn’t help but to roll her eyes. “When I had asked him how the UN had planned to get rid of the live kaiju without nukes and endangering the water and the people’s environment, he pulled some shit out of his ass — pardon my French,” she added in side-bar, “and then I doused the good doctor.”

    Greyson was ready to be given a lecture about the proper ways of handling critique of such nature, but she still believed that Gottlieb fellow deserved every drop. The others seemed to have had a great time, especially her uncle.

    “After the ‘Dome report, I expect you to file a follow-up memo about the Wall.”

    Was he kidding? No, no, the Marshal never kids. This would be the first, if he were. “Sir, yes, sir,” she said in giddiness, saluting the Marshal before being dismissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-26-17.


	9. Sweet Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I put my faith in something unknown  
> I'm living on such sweet nothing  
> But I'm tired of hope with nothing to hold  
> I'm living on such sweet nothing.  
> \- Calvin Harris

**_2020, April 17 – 17:23 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

17 April 2020  
**FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE**  
  
United Nations to sunset Jaeger program; Pan-Pacific Defense priorities shift to coastal defense, resettlement

Effective immediately, the United Nations Subcommittee on Kaiju Defense and Security, Pan-Pacific Breach Working Group, is reassigning funding from the Jaeger program.  
        The costs of the Jaeger program have proven unsustainable in view of the limited returns the program offers. In the last three years we have spent trillions on Jaegers. A member of those Jaegers has been destroyed and losses to life and property are devastating.  
        It could be argued, and has ably been argued by Marshal Pentecost, that our situation would be much worse were it not for the Jaegers. Perhaps so. Yet this is a hypothetical argument, and we are faced with the real-world problem of bankrupting the economies of the developed nations to continue a program whose successes—however notable—no longer justify such an outlay.  
        We will sunset the Jaeger program in a manner that continues to prioritize the safety and security of the people of the Pacific Rim nations. While we do this, we will redirect funding toward the following initiatives:

**COASTAL BARRIERS**

No kaiju has attacked a currently standing Wall. The building of these fortifications is the simplest and most cost-effective tool humanity has to combat the kaiju threat.

**EVACUATION AND RESETTLEMENT PROGRAMS**

Citizens of the Pacific coastal cities will be receiving further information as new housing is constructed farther inland, prioritizing according to progress on the Wall.

**COMPLETION OF UNDERSEA BARRIERS IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC**

The kaiju must be contained at all costs, and under no circumstances will they be allowed to break out of the Pacific and threaten Europe, India, or the East Coast of the Americas.  
  
The Working Group's members wish to thank Marshal Pentecost, his Rangers, and the entire staff of the Jaeger program for their courageous service.

    For a long time, the wait leading up to the conference was like the slow and painful pulling of a Band-Aid. The Alaska base was the first of many Shatterdomes scheduled to be sunset, and its proposed closing disheartened thousands of workers. The media had been hovering over the topic for a while, waiting precisely for the right time to buzz around. They all dreaded the conversation with the UN Pan-Pacific Breach Working Group. Word hadn’t been good. Hopefully, they had convinced them otherwise.

    Stacker Pentecost was front and center, the Marshal after all, when it came to being viewed on the monitors. Tendo Choi and Herc Hansen were both present alongside Greyson Darcy in the closed-down LOCCENT, away from view.

    “ _The Kaiju are learning our defenses. They’re adapting, evolving. And we’re losing Jaegers faster than we can build them_.” Taylor, the American United Nations representative, started naming cities where Jaeger teams had fallen: “ _Lima. Seattle. Vladivostok. Category 4 Kaijus are now coming through the Breach. I think even you can see, Marshal, this is no longer a sound strategy_.” Taylor continued, “ _The Jaegers are not the most viable line of defense anymore._ ”

    Greyson’s eyes scanned the faces and expressions of all the United Nation reps. Canada’s Wilson and Japan’s Satou definitely seemed like they wanted no part of the conference.

    “I am aware,” Marshal Pentecost forcefully stated, and then stopped himself. “Those _are_ my Rangers that die every time a Jaeger falls, which is why I’m asking you for _one last chance_ —” The British advocate, Cole, started to interrupt the Marshal’s plea. “One final assault with everything we’ve got—”

    “ _Excuse me, Marshal — Marshal, listen to_ _me!_ ” Cole barked for attention. The stern look on his face matched even the one of Taylor’s. “ _The Jaeger Program is dead, Marshal. On the other hand_ ,” he continued, “ _the Coastal Wall Program is a promising option_.”

    The Australian rep cut in, “ _We’ve been through this before. The simple fact is the Breach is_ impenetrable.”

    “With our current assets, perhaps,” Pentecost said. “But just as the kaiju have evolved, we are evolving as well. We have the Mark 5-E Jaeger through the design phase and ready for prototyping. It’s ready to go as soon as the funding is released.”

    “ _That just isn’t on the table, I’m afraid_ ,” the Australian said.

    Greyson looked to her side and made eye contact with Herc. No words were exchanged, but she knew what they all were thinking: The V-E was supposed be built in Australia. If their own rep wouldn’t stand up for it, how could it survive?

    The Marshal pushed forward with the conference, trying to convince the United Nations still. He explained how K-Science has made strides with understanding the Breach, and that they were _so close_ to destroying it. They couldn’t stop now, after so many had been sacrificed to protect the world.

    Taylor took head of the conversation once more, speaking as if he had scripted it. “ _The world appreciates all that you and your men have done, but it’s over_.” It was always like this; curt, short; no say one way or another. “ _We will authorize you to take all remaining Jaegers to the last battle station: Hong Kong. We’re prepared to fund you for the next eight months while the Coastal Wall is completed_.” There was a lingering silence. Again, all was quiet until: “ _After that, you will receive no further support_. _You are free to continue it, and I’m sure that a man of your determination will find a way to keep Jaegers in the field_.”

    For the first time since the start of the video conference, Wilson shared his voice. “ _You have your answer, Marshal_.”

   And one by one, the nine United Nations representatives signed off, leaving behind nothing but black screens.

    There was a stunned silence. Stacker took a moment to collect himself before turning to face the others.

    “So, that’s it?” Three other occupants of the room focused their attention on Tendo Choi. “It’s over?” he asked in reference to what was left of the barely upright Jaeger Program.

    Herc sighed and, upon seeing his best friend and commanding officer step down the platform, said, “Suits and ties, flashy smiles. That’s all they are, Stacker.”

    Greyson stood in stilled silence as they conversed. Her eyes followed the hand of Pentecost as a Metharocin pill went from the canister to his mouth. The Marshal’s lips formed, “We don’t need them.”

    “We’re… going to follow through with the op, then?” Greyson had her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her slacks, and though she appeared relaxed, the woman was as tense as a spring. “What are we going to do now? That Mark 5-E was _supposed_ to run point.”

    Pentecost licked his lips, thinking. “It’s too early to decide, now that we can’t build the new Jaeger. On the other hand, K-Science is getting close to an answer; hopefully, in the end, we won’t need it.”

    They watched as Pentecost unclipped the Marshal’s wings from his suit, and placed it on the table. It was an act of defiance, if anything, and Stacker Pentecost never liked disobeying authority. The three of them knew what was running through the Marshal’s head.

    “Yeah, but don’t forget, after eight months we’re kaput.” Tendo crossed his arms over his chest. “How are we going to keep the Program afloat once the year ends?”

    “Well, there might be a way. We still have the Defense Corps contact,” the Marshal said slowly. “He’s been an ally over the years, albeit a criminal one.”

    The pieces started to fall together in Greyson’s head: The rumors she’d heard months ago about Pentecost and Chau dealing right under the PPDC’s nose was a complete lie. Well, that is, until _now_. Her eyes narrowed. “Sir, are we really going to _Hannibal Chau_ for help?”

    Herc’s eyes widened, stricken. He questioned, “Stacker, are we _that_ desperate?”

    The Marshal frowned. It seemed he had made up his mind. “It is distasteful, perhaps. But this? This is war.”

**_2021, July 28 – 12:45 – The Ice Box, Kodiak Island, Alaska, United States_ **

Ironically enough, Hannibal Chau was let go by the PPDC once the new year rolled around; something about beginning to cut off all ties from the Jaeger Program and its divisions. But in secret, Pentecost had made an arrangement with the black marketeer in order to be provided funding.

    Greyson Darcy was seated in the Marshal’s office, examining files and looking for prospects digitally, per say-so of her CO. Pentecost sat back in his chair, listening to the lieutenant, his own holoscreen sitting on his desk.

    “Sir, I’ve got a handful of Marshal-Only clearance dossiers and a couple project files here.” Greyson tapped on her holoscreen before looking up at Pentecost.

    “Which files, Darcy?”

    “Looks like… both Beckets’, the three Hansens’, and one for Chau — updated recently, by you, sir.”

    The Marshal’s eyes scanned the holoscreen, which mirrored the same one as Greyson’s. “Redact Chau’s… and Scott Hansen’s.”

    Greyson did so without question, and then made a face when she read the other project files. “That leaves the Jaeger Restoration and Mark V-E prints…”

    The last file folder was labeled LUCARIO, dated from late-2019 to the month Yancy died. The lieutenant didn’t want to ask questions. For some reason, redacted files on him were inside. She found it disturbing that this was the first she was hearing of it.

    What the hell was the Lucario Project?

**_2022, January 31 – 14:19 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

Boxes. Greyson Darcy was close enough to retching with the smell of that god awful cardboard. How many boxes does it take to put away files and staff dossiers? A lot of them, apparently. Why did they still even use _paper_?

    When the PPDC started cutting funds to the Jaeger Program two years ago, every Shatterdome started shutting down lesser needed functions. Back in ’21, Pentecost had moved Gipsy Danger’s crippled body to Oblivion Bay, the Jaeger graveyard in Oakland, California, otherwise known as the first kaiju’s final resting place.

    The Marshal had transferred Lieutenant Darcy to the Sydney ‘Dome temporarily. Striker Eureka was being deployed more often than others, and Herc Hansen had wanted to have someone Stacker trusted close by.

    Majority of the space was emptied out, and more staffers would be helping her out if Striker hadn’t been deployed a few hours prior. Greyson figured it wouldn’t be much trouble to take them on her own. She stacked them on top of each other, and then took hold of the bottom box. There was one problem that the lieutenant hadn’t thought of.

    As Greyson maneuvered the floors blindly, vision obstructed by the boxes, she was cursing every other second. Her arms were getting sore and her fingers were chaffing against the box handles and her breath made her correction glasses fog up, and if this wasn’t the most uncomfortable day of her life, Greyson didn’t know what was.

    The next thing she remembered was tripping over her own feet, and then feeling someone catching her, but the boxes in her hands imitated the Washington Monument in that old movie _Olympus Has Fallen_. Greyson felt herself within strong arms; a hand was placed at the small of her back, and even through the fabrics of her layers, she could feel the warmth that came from it.

    “Christ. Are you okay?”

    Greyson came face to face with none other than Chuck Hansen himself. Of course. She had come across him enough times to be considered well acquainted, yet, at this moment, she found herself turning red-faced.

    Slightly embarrassed, Greyson answered his question, saying that she was indeed fine. Clearing her throat, she bent to pick up everything, glowering at the jarred boxes and scattered papers. The woman sighed loudly, blowing hair from her face.

    There was talking and footsteps and engines, and then Chuck was at her side in a moment, shuffling the sheets together. When his hand grazed over hers, they gave each other a lingering look.

    She was caught off guard when he asked again: “Sure you’re alright?” Chuck’s eyes were all blue, like the sky outside on a good day, and his dimples were prominent when a smile tugged at his lips.

    “Peachy.”

    In haste the boxes were righted. Greyson and Chuck took hold of two boxes each and got to their feet. As the two walked, the former couldn’t help but to stare. “Thank you,” she eventually spit out.

    Chuck turned his head. For someone four years younger than she, Greyson noted how much taller he was in comparison. He dipped his gaze to meet her eye, and the smile that followed after seemed to brighten them more. 

**_2022, February 3 – 06:23 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

Whoever said “diamonds are a girl’s best friend” was most obviously wrong; headphones, in fact, took that title — at least, that’s what Greyson figured. They were the universal prop that exclaimed to the world, “Leave me alone!”

    Every time Greyson woke up in Australia, she would remember that once upon a time, going there had always been a dream; she just never thought the push that would bring her there was work. On top of that, sometimes work ran over personal time, and other times people missed their birthdays.

    It was one of those years. She had celebrated her twenty-third birthday alone. Tendo was the only who remembered, frankly.

    As she walked around the large Shatterdome, Greyson began putting names to the familiar faces of the many passersby. _Jacqui, Rich, Mel, Savannah, Laura, Raj_ —

    “Sonny! Hey!” She immediately knew the voice even before turning around: _Chuck_. His footsteps echoed as he approached. Greyson turned to him, looking curiously at the arm shifted behind his back. Huffing, Chuck let out, “I’ve been looking for you.”

    Greyson nodded to him in kind, pulling down her headphones and letting them rest on her shoulders. “How can I be of service?” She smiled up at him. There was no apparent hint of distaste in her words and for that Greyson gave herself a mental pat on the back.

    Chuck’s ears visibly turned a dark pink hue. She bit the side of her lip to hide a smirk. “So, I heard from a few others that it was your birthday the other day, and I just…” The Australian, with a large, heartfelt grin, pulled from behind his back a bouquet of hydrangeas, irises, daffodils, carnations, and primroses. “I got you these.”

    Sheepishly, he added, “I hope they’re okay. The shop clerk said these would do fine, y’see, and I didn’t know if…”

    Her face hurt so much from smiling that Greyson was afraid her cheeks would burst. But she didn’t dare care. Cutting off Chuck’s ramblings on, she accepted the bouquet and went on the balls of her feet to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “I love them, Charlie, thank you.” Greyson lifted the flowers to her nose and took a whiff.

    Chuck hadn’t even argued about whether or not he liked being called ‘Charlie’, and that made Greyson ponder on things she had yet to factor.

    About three things she was absolutely positive: First, Chuck Hansen had those eyes as blue as the sea on a peaceful day, the kind of blues everyone would love to jump into. Second, there was a part of her, and she didn’t know how strong it was, that most probably actually _may_ have found him somewhat attractive. And third, Greyson Darcy wouldn’t regret accepting that invite to spend her day with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-28-17.


	10. Uprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rise up and take the power back  
> It's time the fat cat's had a heart attack  
> You know that their time's coming to an end  
> We have to unify and watch our flag ascend.  
> \- Muse

**_2022, February 14 – 05:18 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

Greyson was on her way to the Local Command Center with two mugs of coffee when her name was called. The person in question drove in a cart that was filled to the brim with countless bouquets of many different flowers.

    She watched the cart crawl to a stop and greeted the driver. “Hey, Tony. Didn’t know you had a green thumb,” Greyson joked, taking a sip from one of the mugs. She nodded to the cart. “What’s the occasion?”

    Anthony made a face and raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Single’s Awareness Day.” Chuckling to himself, he parked the cart and grabbed a holoscreen. After scanning it for some time, the staffer scrounged in the back seats for what she assumed was her own flowers. “I see you’ve got a secret admirer,” Anthony commented lightly, gingerly presenting Greyson with a bouquet of roses as red as her jeans.

    Greyson, without a free hand, hugged the flowers in the crook of an elbow. “Wow, these are… _wow_ ” was all she was able to get out. There was a card attached to the bundle, but she was unable to read it.

    After being given a lift to the LOCCENT by Anthony, Greyson entered the area and strode to the Chief Tech Officer’s desk, handing him the coffee. She had started to consider him a friend throughout her time in the new ‘Dome.

    Upon taking a sip out of the mug, the man grimaced, sputtering. “I said 8-in-1 Frappuccino.”

    “You can tell the difference?” she inquired, lightly impressed but not truly in much wonder. She put down her mug.

    He said matter-of-factly, “Anyone can tell the difference between a 3-in-1 and an 8-in-1, which you’d have been able to do if—”

    “Yeah, okay, sorry,” Greyson huffed, putting down her mug. Detaching the note from the roses, she opened the handwritten card. Her face immediately broke out in a stupid grin upon recognizing the writing: _Roses are red; violets are blue. This may be cliché, but I’m thinking of you. – C._

    Greyson’s eyes nearly missed the post script which said: _P.S. – You look good in red._ Before the girl was able to question what the line was meant, the doors to Mission Control opened to reveal Herc Hansen alongside Marshal Stacker Pentecost. She greeted them kindly.

    When the two of them were well within earshot, Herc met Greyson’s eye, waving the slightest bit. “The bloke’s waiting for you outside,” he joked.

    Greyson chuckled and thanked the good man, leaving behind the rosy red bouquet. Upon stepping foot into the large corridor, a wide eyed ginger with even wider of a grin met her. In his hands was a large white sign, which were apparently multiple ones. They read as:

    _With any luck, by next year_

_I’ll be going out with an amazing girl_

    _But for now let me say,_

_Without hesitation or second thought,_

_Just because it’s Valentine’s Day—_

_(And at V-Day you fall in love)_

_To me, you are perfect_

_And my poor, young heart will love you_

_Until you look like Betty White_

_Happy Valentine’s_

    Greyson stood smiling, and Chuck shown that absolutely stupid grin he knew she loved, and they just looked at each other until Greyson said to him, “Please tell me you didn’t just go _Love Actually_ on me.”

    “I’m going out on a limb, aye? Will you go out with me?” Chuck’s eyes were hopeful, and he _had_ gone through all the trouble to make her day.

    “Okay, Chuck,” she answered, using his proper name in what felt like the first time. “One date.”

**_2022, July 25 – 16:09 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

Father and son were heading back into the bowels of their respective ‘Dome after exiting the DriveSuit Room. The fight with Taurax in the Philippines wore them out, and their girl needed a fix-her-up of her own.

    It was during dinner that either of them actually spoke a direct word outside of their usual grunts and huffs. Herc and Chuck Hansen were sat opposite each other at the table, with Max beside the latter man. The father had spoken to his son, making sure his food was more than partially eaten before opening his mouth. “There was something off with you this last drop.”

    Chuck scoffed, pulling the same face he always did when it came to his father’s little mind games. “Sure, old man, whatever you say.”

    “This is no game, boy,” Herc chastised. His voice was not raised; though its firmness made Chuck aware he truly wasn’t planning to beat around the bush. “You know how crucial focus is within the ConnPod. I need to—”

    “—be able to rely on me to keep my eyes on the goal. I know, Dad, _I know_ — you never shut up about it.” Chuck dipped his head down, eyes half-lidded. “What’s it to you? The drop was successful, and we even have another kill under the belt.”

    Herc frowned, and his eye brows knitted together in frustration at his only son. “You know as well as I do,” he rigidly started, “that being a Ranger ain’t always about how many KJs you’ve bagged. If this is about that girl, I—”

    “What if she isn’t just _some girl_ , Dad? Because she isn’t.” Chuck snapped. He sat up. “Hey, I bet everything you’re about to say is _great_ stuff, and I’m sure it’ll all pay off… someday.” Chuck threw back the remaining contents of his drink before grasping the lid of his cap and standing. “Don’t waste your breath, old man. Nothing personal.”

    The son pulled the bull cap over his ginger hair and called for his dog to follow suit as he left the crowded mess hall.

**_2023, May 1 – 18:49 – The Ice Box, Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Chuck blew his bangs out of his eyes.

    Greyson shrugged, smirking. “Saving people, hunting things.” She giggled when Chuck complained about the reference.

    The lieutenant was transferred back to the Ice Box at the beginning of April 2023. She definitely enjoyed the year and half at Sydney, but it was always good to be home.

    “Heard from the old man that they were thinking of picking up an old Jaeger for some op.” Chuck crossed his arms over his chest, mouth shifting to the side. His eyes flickered to the woman standing beside him. He leaned into her, shoving her shoulder with his. Their gaze met and both grinned.

    She slipped her hand into his, interlocking their fingers together. Greyson said, “Give him some slack. Things haven’t been hunky dory behind the scenes, you know.” Her chin rested on his shoulder, and the lieutenant’s eyes traced his profile. With her free hand, Greyson moved his hair out of his face again. She wondered if he knew that Herc and Stacker both intended to lead the op in the future. “Was there anything else you may have _accidentally_ eavesdropped in, hmm?”

    The corners of Chuck’s turned down to hide his sheepish grin, and his blue eyes looked up to the ceiling holdings. A high-pitched hum resided in the back of his throat as he wracked his brain for a proper answer. “Nothing in particular,” Chuck answered finally, angling his head to her once again. He looked at her like a man seeing the watching a beautiful sunset for the first time.

    Chuck raised his right arm, the one holding Greyson’s left hand, and kissed her knuckles. His eyes glued to the black ink that ran across the inside of her wrist; he turned his hand to see it better. “You never told me what the Roman numerals were for,” he said, running his left thumb over it.

    “It’s Yancy’s birthday. We were out in town shit-faced one weekend, and we got matching tats. He had mine on his wrist, too.” Greyson then proceeded to grab her boyfriend’s right arm, looking at the fresh ink on his forearm. It was lining of the Striker Eureka insignia. Teasingly, she asked, “When are you going to color _this_ in? Get scared?”

    “No!” Chuck replied defensively. “Just never had the time.”

    Greyson chuckled. “Have you ever met one of the research squints? Geiszler?” Off of the shake of his head, she said, “Well, forget about sleeves. That guy’s got some pain threshold; his entire upper body is done in full color.”

    The two of them stood in front of the Marshal’s office for however long it was that time had passed, with her head rested on his shoulder and his arm around hers. Voices were very lightly heard through the door, but it was soon found what the lengthy meeting and conference was for.

    There was to be a program created for the restoration of a Jaeger soon in light. Efforts would be set to retrieve it from Oblivion Bay. Some other things were said about operating and falling in pits or something of that nature, but neither of the two was able to catch much of that.

    Within moments, Tendo Choi had come down the hall beside them, asking if they were called up with him. “Called up for what?” Greyson inquired, now more curious than ever. “Is it about the Breach op?”

    Chuck pulled a face, confused and offended that he hadn’t been in on some loop. “What the hell do you mean _Breach op_?”

    The three of them heard footsteps echo down the hallway and immediately turned to see who was approaching. A young Japanese trainee, Mako Mori, was briskly making her way towards them. Nearly everyone in the PPDC knew her name, and many were thrilled when Pentecost allowed her to attend the Jaeger Academy two years ago. Since then, she had made a name for herself in the J-Tech department.

    Herc Hansen pulled open the door just as Mako came, and she and Tendo entered the Marshal’s office. The veteran Ranger pointed to a surprised Greyson and wordlessly ushered her into the room. They all left Chuck alone in the hall.

    “One or more of you may be wondering why you’re here,” Stacker Pentecost assumed, sizing up each of the three. “With the inevitable sunsetting of the Jaeger Program in the future, we have decided on a last ditch effort to deal with the Breach once and for all.”

    Greyson raised her hand slightly, motioning to speak. “With permission to speak, sir, I’d heard we were going to be picking up a Jaeger from Oblivion Bay?”

    The Marshal nodded, his eyes narrowing a smidge. “Choi, Darcy, you two are already aware of Operation Pitfall. Now, you three have truly proven yourself above the rest. I’d like you all to head the newest Jaeger Restoration Project.”

    Mako spoke up, “Marshal, who’s the mech we’re resurrecting?”

**_2023, June 21 – 10:12 – The Ice Box, Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

“Look at her.”

    “I see.”

    “No, I mean… Really look at her!”

    “I _do_ have eyes. Two of them.”

    “She’s a classic, original beaut.” There was an air of adoration in the woman’s voice. Greyson Darcy turned to Tendo Choi, eyes wide and full of wonder and nearly childlike.

    The chief tech officer laughed. “And she’s going to be running support on an op.”

    With a roll of the eye, the lieutenant turned back to the glass overlook to the bay port, watching as the Super Sikorskys lowered the broken Mark 3 into Bay 6, directly from the rigging.

    Greyson placed her palm against the cool glass, sighing contentedly. After some time, she said, “Where do you think he is?”

    She didn’t see him shrug his shoulders. “God knows,” Tendo sighed. “Last I heard he was chasing shifts wherever he could. I miss that gassy, oversized jerk-face.”

**_2024, September 9 – 19:03 – The Ice Box, Anchorage, Alaska, United States_ **

Greyson had been left to oversee the rest of The Ice Box alongside Tendo while the Marshal went to the memorial site in Hawaii with Mako. Things had slowed down around the place; they were a month from fully shutting down, after all.

    It was nearing the end of sundown when the reporter came. She had come to follow through with an interview with the Marshal for some puff piece she was writing, and ended up talking to Tendo.

    Greyson had tried — she had tried _so hard_ to avoid that reporter since she stepped foot on the grounds, and the Filipina lieutenant was aiming to do so until she left. Naomi Sokolov and Tendo were talking about his life through K-Day. They were finishing when Greyson was forced to go to the CTO and inform him of the progress taken with the ‘Dome.

    “…The ferry eventually came back for us,” Tendo said to Naomi. “Just in time. Word was they were getting ready to nuke the thing. And it was almost a relief to hear, insane as that sounds.” Greyson was directly behind Naomi and Tendo as they walked outside; she didn’t hustle to catch up with them.

    As they approached the parking lot, Naomi asked, “Just one more thing. What did it mean — what your grandfather said?”

    “’Endure this’,” Tendo answered. “Anyway, sorry you missed the Marshal. Hope you got something you could use for your article.”

    As the reporter entered her car and thanked the officer, Greyson approached. “Hey, Ten, when you’ve got the chance—”

    “You’re Sonny Darcy, aren’t you?” Naomi leaned out of the driver’s side window. “Been a while, I say.”

    Greyson looked at Naomi, blinking before pulling on a tight-lipped smile. “Naomi,” she huffed curtly. Nodding slightly, the two of them bid the reporter _adieu_. The lieutenant turned back to Tendo. “The new pathways are going custom. Turbine updates are being put on hold until Gipsy gets detailed to Hong Kong. Mako’s had some—”

    “What the hell went on between you and Naomi?” Tendo cut her off, raising a brow in question and crossing his arms.

    Greyson merely feigned innocence, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

    “So, there was nothing in that semi-rude and stoic response?” As they walked back to the interior building, Tendo waited for an answer. When Greyson didn’t respond, he cocked his head. “Do you still have a grudge on her from—?”

    “ _Yes_ , I still have a grudge on her from what happened!”

    “It’s been years, Sonny—”

    “She almost got the brothers kicked out.”

    “People change.”

    “And _I’m_ the queen of friggin’ Narnia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-28-17.


	11. A Place for My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanna be in another place  
> I hate when you say you don't understand  
> (You'll see it's not meant to be)  
> I wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy  
> A place for my head.  
> \- Linkin Park

**_2024, December 25 – 00:16 – Sydney Shatterdome, Sydney, Australia_ **

“I still can’t believe that we’re closing down.” Chuck angrily pulled out his luggage bags from under his bed. He swaggered over to his wardrobe and grabbed some clothes into a single hug. Even when one of his bags was full, Chuck had that brooding look on his face.

    Sighing, Greyson got up off of the chair from across the room and stood behind her boyfriend. Her arms went around and hugged his front as she kissed his shoulder. Chuck visibly relaxed. His hands cupped hers.

    For a while, it was silent. Chuck had held the back of her hand to his lips, and they both stood there for a moment, enjoying the silence, enjoying the company of each other. The stresses of the last few nights had worn them thin. Greyson had arrived at the ‘Dome two days prior to oversee the closing. When news had spread, neither Chuck nor Herc took it in kind; at least the Vulcan Specter crew didn’t have a chip on their shoulder.

    Chuck turned and sat himself at the edge of his bed: unmade, full of clothes, and captured in his musk. He pulled Greyson between his knees, asking, “What time is it?”

    She cocked her head to the side, amused by his question. Checking the time, she answered “Twelve-twenty. Why?”

    There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Greyson could tell his thoughts were roaming. Chuck grinned the grin that made her weak in the knees. He leaned on his back, stuck his hand under the vast mountain of pillows, and pulled out a silver bow. Peeling off the sticker, he pressed the bow onto his chest.

    The laughter came freely from them two. “What are you doing, you dork?” She plopped herself unceremoniously on the mattress, leaning against a hand. “What’s with the bow?”

    “Merry Christmas, love.”

    Greyson’s jaw slacked. “Wait, _you’re_ my… Christmas present?”

    Chuck rolled to his side, resting his head atop his own hand so they faced each other. “I’ve been wondering what to give someone who already had everything.”

    Greyson pulled the bow off, moving over to straddle Chuck’s hips. “You’re sweet,” she mumbled through a laugh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.

**_2024, December 31 – 23:56 – Sydney Harbour, Australia_ **

Spending the yearly midnight countdown in Australia was never in Greyson’s bucket list, but it would be crossed-off if it were. Striker Eureka was being transferred to the last remaining Shatterdome following the New Year’s celebrations.

    Meanwhile, Chuck had convinced her and Herc to see the fireworks.

    Chuck with fireworks — unbelievable.

    Herc knew a guy who knew a guy who was brothers with the producer of the firework show. They were sitting with them to watch the displays. With a few beers and a couple margaritas in their systems, Greyson and the Hansens were having the time of their lives, which was rare.

    Chuck was at her side with an arm around her waist, talking with one of the directors.

    When the ten-second-countdown started, comets were shot from Jet Skis to mark the time. This year, they’d decided to have Striker’s insignia as the first firework of 2025, as for a farewell gesture.

    After the first glimpse of Max in the sky, the actual Max perked up, standing. Greyson tore her eyes from the fireworks and looked up at Chuck. A smile of childlike wonder was painting his face; a smile as bright as the stars.  His eyes reflected the displays with the every changing light. The smile had reached his eyes for the first time in a long time.

    Greyson grinned when he took notice of her. His lips captured hers within a heartbeat. Chuck muttered against her lips, “God, I love you.”

**_2025, January 1 – 14:55 – Anti-Kaiju Wall, Sitka Quadrant, Alaska, United States_ **

    Raleigh Becket was in the packed lines to get his rations from the commissioners. He’d just finished another shift from the top of the wall; the red cards they gave out for the more dangerous jobs almost made the less-shitty food worth it.

    The workers had a large tent filled with tables as their dining area. Five star quality, that shit. Not. He had just put his equipment away in their makeshift barracks when he heard someone mention _kaiju_. “ _I am here in Sydney where earlier today yet another kaiju attack took place. The kaiju, an enormous Category 4, broke through the coastal wall in less than an hour._ ”On the television, some people watched shaky camera footage of the latest conquest, Mutavore, as the scrolling feed said.

    He wasn’t surprised. Stacker Pentecost had always shown distaste for the Wall Plan, because everyone involved with the Jaeger Program knew it was useless. But of course, politics was the winner. The reporter continued, “ _The Wall of Life had been deemed unbreachable by its builders_.”

    A worker from across the way shouted out, “Why the hell are we even building this thing?”

    “That-that thing…” Tommy, a fellow worker he had become acquainted with, stuttered. “It went through the Wall like it was nothing…”

    “ _Ironically, it was the recently decommissioned Jaeger, Striker Eureka, piloted by Herc and Chuck Hansen, that finally took the beast down._ ”

    He remembered doing training exercises with the Hansens, and that drop in Manila. At the mention of the pilots, live footage appeared on the screen before switching to aerial footage of Striker Eureka and Mutavore. Raleigh felt awed as he watched the speed of the last Mark; he’d never been in one since there were none while he was in service.

    Then, bitterness: if Gipsy was a Mark V, things with Yancy would have ended a lot differently.

    Sounds of helicopter blades grew louder. Raleigh wasn’t sure if it came from outside or from the TV. When Raleigh looked, he caught sight of the Sikorsky touching down. Snow and flying debris hid the insignia on its side, but he knew a PPDC chopper when he saw one. Others around him stood dazed while he walked out to it, squinting as the blades slowed.

    Marshal Pentecost looked around, and then stepped out once he and Raleigh made eye contact. Soldiers filed out of the helicopter in formation. “Mr. Becket,” the Marshal called out, as if they had planned to meet prior.

    Raleigh nodded in greet. “Marshal, looking sharp.” And he did, clad in a nice coat and a tailored, navy suit. The perks of having a steady paying job.

    “Long time,” he said.

    “Five years, four months.” He could’ve added the days and hours. The death of his brother was still fresh in his mind, despite the time. But the Marshal understood, because he’s lost people too.

    “Can I have a word?”

    It seemed to him that they already were, and with a gathered audience. But he nodded anyway. Raleigh brought Pentecost into a less crowded part of the factory. “Step into my office, Marshal.”

    “It took me a while to find you,” Pentecost started. “Anchorage, Sheldon Point, Nome—”

    “A man in my position travels with the Wall,” Raleigh pointed out. “Chasing shifts to make a living. What do you want?”

    The Marshal huffed, looking up and scanning the place. “I’ve spent the last six months activating anything I can get my hands on. There’s an old Jaeger, a Mark 3, you know it. It needs a pilot.”

    Raleigh pretended to think about something. “Didn’t you have me grounded for insubordination?”

    “I did,” Pentecost agreed. “But I’m a big believer in second chances, Mr. Becket. Aren’t you?”

    Stacker Pentecost looked thinner, grayer than the last he’d seen him. He guessed the stress of this war was getting to him. Raleigh had heard the Jaeger Program was going out, but the Marshal wanted him back in. What was going on here?

    Cynically, Raleigh said, “I’m guessing I wasn’t your first choice.”

    “You _are_ my first choice. All the other Mark 3 pilots are dead.”

    Raleigh huffed, shaking his head. A memory flashed through his mind, Yancy screaming into the Drift just before it broke. He frowned apologetically. “Look… I can’t have anyone else in my head again. I’m _done_. I was still connected to my brother when he died.” Raleigh began walking away from the Marshal. “I can’t go through that again, man, I’m sorry.”

    “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Becket? The world is ending. So where would you rather die, here or in a Jaeger?”

    That was the wrong question. The real question was how many beers he would get with the new red ration card. Live feed from Australia was being shown when Raleigh ducked back under the tent. Miles’ voice reached him before he did. “Flyboy! And here I thought we would be losing you to your fancy military friend.” Raleigh ignored him as best he could and walked over to the bartender.

    On the television, reporters hovered around the Hansens in the recently decomissioned Sydney Shatterdome. No, no – it was probably some other PPDC facility, he realized. They were surrounded by military personnel. “ _Sergeant Hansen, people are theorizing that the Jaeger Program isn’t a sound tactic anymore. Do you think it should end_?”

    “ _We stopped the kaiju, yeah?_ ” The reporter nodded, but he cut her off before she could say anything more. “ _Then I have no further comment._ ” Herc turned his back, leading his son behind him and a woman that Raleigh could swear he recognized.

    Raleigh tried to ignore the bastard Miles sitting on the other end of the tables, making jokes about the Jaeger Program and insulting Rangers’ names. He wouldn’t have made the cut even if he trained his whole life.

    Another reporter asked, “ _Why has the UN forced the shut-down of the Program?”_

    “ _Look_ , _they’re decommissioning the Jaeger Program because of mediocre pilots. It’s that simple_.” Chuck Hansen’s half-cocked answer wasn’t that surprising, given that he didn’t have his father’s restraint. He stopped for a moment. “ _Now, that’s Striker Eureka’s tenth kill to date. It’s a new record_.”

    A different reporter still asked him a question between their exchanges. “ _And you’re still going to Hong Kong? Even in a time like this?”_

    The woman at his side seemed to whisper something, and he nodded, putting a hand at the small of her back. Cameras rushed to their front, and Raleigh finally saw the woman’s face. His heart dropped upon seeing the face of his old friend.

    One male reporter shoved a mic in front of her. “ _Lieutenant Darcy, insider reports say you’re in on some special project. We saw Gipsy Danger removed from Oblivion Bay a while back. Dare to comment?_ ”

    Greyson looked healthy, and her hair had gotten longer. The way Hansen looked at her told Raleigh more than what words could.

    “ _Just wanted to keep the girl from being melted down into pins and girders to add to the walls_ ,” she said simply, back-handing an insult. His friend hadn’t changed a bit. Raleigh bit back a smirk, getting up with a beer in his hand.

    “ _Why Gipsy Danger in particular_?” the same reporter inquired, keeping pace with Greyson and Chuck. “ _Will you be bringing back the left-over, Raleigh Becket? Do you have a message for him, if he’s watching this?_ ”

    The man in question froze in his tracks when his name was mentioned, and he felt many eyes target his back. Raleigh raised his head to screen; Greyson hadn’t stopped walking, but her expression was unreadable. “ _Yeah, I wish that he’d pick up a damn phone once in a while_.”

    After her comment, the news correspondents bombarded her with interrogatory inquiries as they made haste to leave. Chuck shoved the cameras away, keeping a firm arm around her as they walked. Raleigh turned away.

    “That Darcy’s a nice piece of ass,” Miles commented just as the ex-Ranger passed behind him. A few others laughed.

    Something in Raleigh snapped. He took a step toward the commissioner. “You shut the fuck up about her.”

    “Easy, boy. Don’t forget I’m the one in charge around here.” Miles took a swig from his beer before focusing on Raleigh again. He cracked a toothy grin, laughing. “This is personal for you, isn’t it? What, were you and that bitch a thing in your old life? She looks happy now with her new arm candy—”

    Raleigh didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed Miles by the back of the head and slammed him face-first onto the beer can. Foam exploded everywhere, on the table and on their clothes. Miles slumped sideways out of the chair.

    Several workers looked agitated, as if they were itching to fight. Others merely laughed. Someone clapped, and before long applause surrounded him. Looks like he’d made up his mind.

    By the time he had left the tent, he was jogging in the direction of the whirring blades. He felt like he just couldn’t get away fast enough. Surprisingly, the Marshal opened the doors and let him jump in.

    “Change of heart?” he shouted over the noise of the rotors and the engine.

    “I lost my job!” Raleigh answered, just as loud. “How come you waited?”

    Pentecost smiled. It wasn’t something he did often, that’s for sure. “I figured it’s been five years, four months,” he said quietly. “Another five minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

**_2025, January 2 – 18:00 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

The flight from Australia to China was uneventful. When the others arrived at the Shatterdome, Greyson was seen heading straight to her unit and crashed for a while. Herc presumably did the same thing, because he got out of his DriveSuit.

    Upon waking, Greyson changed into an old, uniform-blue sweater from the PDDC and skinny jeans. She left her room and took the lift. Being held up inside for hours on end isn’t really all it was cracked up to be. The doors slid open to the ground floor, where the helipads were placed and the ports were opened. Greyson nodded to the pilots and cargo-holders as she passed them.

    Beside the opened loading bay doors lay a large tank. Inside was a large portion of a kaiju brain; the clipboard said Mutavore. Greyson’s eyes widened at the sight. Excitement soon rolled over her. She began to wonder how difficult it must have been for the K-Science to achieve such a well-intact piece. Then again, Hannibal Chau still was under contract with them.

    An artery shifted to touch the glass case wherein it was held. Greyson squeamishly turned on her heel, regretting her decision of trying to be active and productive.

    Someone met her at the elevator: Mako Mori. Greyson had smiled when she saw her, greeting with, “Mako!” Noting that she held two umbrellas in her hand, she raised a questioning brow. “Did the Marshal leave while I was gone? So soon?”

    She nodded. The black hair that framed her face bobbed, the blues curling at her chin. “He left on the first to pick up someone.” Mako asked, amused, “Haven’t you read Choi’s morale memo?”

    That’s right. With the Shatterdome on ‘last stand’ mode, they pulled out all their assets. Greyson watched as Mako walked out to the platform, an umbrella shielding her from the harsh rain. What good that must have been; it became way too windy for it to keep dry properly.

    Rotors on the Sikorsky began to slow as the door flipped downwards. Marshal Stacker Pentecost squinted out into the rain, standing tall against the pestering weather. Upon laying eyes on Mako, he shrugged off the rain and began to walk over for the umbrella.

    They may have exchanged a few words, but Greyson was still watching the door with her heart in her throat. She didn’t realize she was walking forward until the rain sent a chill up her spine.

    She exhaled a breath she never knew she was holding when she saw him. Raleigh.

    He was found; he was alive; he was breathing.

    He was _here_.

    Greyson’s legs pumped faster than ever before. (She was usually against running on prone-to-get-slippery platforms in this kind of weather, but this was an exception.) The hard rain droplets seemed nothing to her. The few meters it took to reach them seemed like a thousand. She threw her arms around his neck before any of them could say another word. Raleigh returned it with just the same amount of vigor.

    “Sonny. _Too tight_.”

    Hearing her name alone brought tears to Greyson’s eyes. She laughed under her breath, to hide the small sob that flitted past her lips. Greyson finally let go of Raleigh. And then immediately punched him in the arm.

    Raleigh complained, mouth open in shock, and rubbed at the spot. “Ow, damn, what the hell?”

    “You’re an ass,” Greyson said, taking the umbrella from Mako. The rain had soaked them some, but she held the umbrella firm in his hand. The youngest among them raised a hand to her face to hide a smile.

    Pentecost started, after giving his lieutenant a disapproving look, “I take it that you and Ms. Darcy are still well acquainted. She was also in charge of the Mark 3 Restoration Project.”

    Raleigh bowed his head gentlemanly. “I’d apologize about Sonny, but you’ve probably been around her long enough.”

    “Hey!”

    Mako’s eyes skittered over to the Marshal, and she muttered under her breath, “ _Imag to chigau_ ,” looking up at him. _I imagined him differently._

    “Hey. _Chigau te?_ ” Raleigh replied in Japanese. _Different how?_

    Pentecost looked at him indifferently, but Greyson visibly pursed her lips to hide a growing grin. Nobody did embarrassment like the Japanese.

    Mako’s face went from shock to brightening with a smile. “ _I apologize, Mr. Becket_ ,” she said in her native tongue. “ _I’ve heard a lot about you_.” The two nodded to each other in respect.

    As the four of them inched towards the bay elevator, Greyson couldn’t help but to stare at Raleigh. For someone who chased shifts to stay afloat, he didn’t look too haggard, but exactly like he did five years ago.

    Five years ago: that time seemed like a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 7-28-17.


	12. All I Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could follow you to the beginning  
> Just to relive the start  
> Maybe then we'd remember to slow down  
> At all of our favorite parts.  
> \- Paramore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 8-1-17.

**_2025, January 2 – 18:12 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

    Greyson gawked at him as they walked, wondering if she was even dreaming. When Raleigh caught her staring, he grinned, switching the umbrella into his other hand and throwing an arm around his old friend’s shoulder. “Sorry I never picked up a damn phone,” he muttered, pretty proud of himself.

    “Oh, you heard about that?” Greyson laughed under her breath. She almost didn’t catch Marshal Pentecost’s singular sentence: “We will tour the facility first, and then Ms. Mori will show you to your Jaeger, Mr. Becket.”

    Raleigh looked into the aquariums when he entered. By the time everyone had settled inside the lift and out of the rain, an animated sort of voice started screaming to hold the door. Greyson’s face lit up when she saw her favorite K-Scientists and newly transferred J-Tech officer.

    The doctors had shaken off the rain from their coats and stomped out their boots. Newt Geiszler, Noah’s older brother, shook his umbrella closed, and called out, “Stay back! Kaiju specimens are extremely rare, so look, but don’t touch, please.”

    Hermann Gottlieb, Lars’s son, merely rolled his eyes. Noah stifled a laugh, covering the grin on his face. “Raleigh, this is our research team,” Greyson introduced in amusement. “Dr. Gottlieb and Dr. Geiszler. And, of course, you know Noah.”

    “No, no. Call me Newt. Only my mother calls me ‘doctor’.” Newt turned to him, pulling his jacket off of his shoulders.

    No one aside from Newt found that the least bit funny. Greyson rolled her eyes; Mako and Pentecost both were impassive; Raleigh nodded cautiously, not sure what to do, but keeping the atmosphere as un-awkward as possible.

    “Ah, _you’re_ Noah’s infamous brother,” Raleigh figured, seeing the resemblance between the two.

    Noah huffed, shaking his head. He spoke so only they could hear. “Please don’t remind me.”

    “Hermann!” Newt continued, calling his partner and ignoring the short exchange. “These are human beings” – he motioned to the others — “Why don’t you say ‘hello’?”

    Gottlieb slid off his soaked hood. “I have asked you not to refer to me by my first name outside of the laboratory—”

    “Oh, no, yes, I didn’t realize,” Newt started to bicker, mocking Hermann with an overly dramatic, low-toned Britich accent. “Ten years of experience, oh, I’m very sorry!” Rolling up his shirt sleeves to show off his tattoo sleeves, the shorter man grumbled to himself.

    “Who is that? Yamarashi?” Raleigh asked to make small conversation.

    Newt looked down to his forearm and pointed. “Oh, this little kaiju? Yeah, you got a good eye.”

    A ghost of a smile passed Raleigh’s lips. His confident demeanor had come back, after all. “My brother and I took him down in 2017.”

    “Did you know that he was one of the biggest Category 3’s ever? He was two thousand, five hundred tons of awesome.” The six others on the elevator exchanged exasperated looks; there went the doctor, as insensitive as ever.

    Raleigh shifted closer to Greyson, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. Looking sideways at the blond, she noticed how set his jaw was. He was staring quizzically at the two doctors, although she didn’t think it anything than the usual.

    After a few moments, Newt started talking again. “Or, you know, awful. Whatever you wanna call it.”

    Hermann spoke up, pointing a finger in Newt’s general direction. “Please, excuse him. He’s a Kaiju Groupie, he loves them.”

    The two of them always bickered like an old married couple, they did. Many had, up to this point, had just learned to deal with them. Greyson wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up being Drift Compatible.

    “Shut up, Hermann, I don’t love them. Okay?” Newt snapped, “I study them. And unlike most people, I want to see them alive and up close one day.”

    When the doors opened to the hall, Mako and Pentecost walked ahead. Greyson waited for Raleigh, but he had placed a hand on Newt’s shoulder, shaking his head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna.”

    As they continued out, Newt called after Raleigh, apparently not done with the conversation. “Uh, no. I’m sorry. Excuse me. Uh… Hey, um, guy?”

    Raleigh turned his attention back to the frizzled scientist, and Greyson stopped with him. Both Mako and Pentecost slowed a few paces ahead, listening to the good doctor’s rant.

    “Kaiju are the most immense, complex living entities ever to walk the earth,” he marveled. “And guys like you, you don’t know anything about them. See, the way I see it is, if you wanna stop them, you _have_ to understand them.”

    “Right,” Raleigh replied, nodding his head once. “Or we could just blow ‘em to pieces.”

    Newt took a moment to recollect himself. “Oh, that’s brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? Let’s just blow them to chunks. That’s great—”

    “Gentlemen,” the Marshal said to diffuse the argument and get on with their day. “Debrief in ten.” It was to the Geiszlers and Gottlieb.

    The latter saluted in the Marshal’s direction. “Sir.”

    “Be ready.”

    As the lot of them turned around to enter the Shatterdome bay maintenance area, Greyson overheard Newt say to Hermann, “What are you doing? You look like an idiot. Put your hand down.” The doors began to close. “You’re not an officer; you don’t need to salute anyone. What a _jerk_ that guy was.”

    Halfway down the corridor, Raleigh called to the Marshal, “So that’s your research division?”

    “Things have changed…” Their party waited for Mako to put in the three-digit pass-code, and the hangar bay doors opened to reveal its interior. Pentecost angled himself and met Raleigh’s eye. “We’re not an army anymore, Mr. Becket. We’re the resistance.”

    The doors made noise as they widened, and Raleigh walked forward. Marshal Pentecost said, “Welcome to the Shatterdome.” The three of them went ahead with the door whereas Greyson took to her right, in the direction of Striker Eureka’s holding bay.

    With her echoing footsteps came other voices. She weaved in between carts and staffers trying to get across the bay floor. Greyson had missed the hustle of a ‘dome, having been made to sunset the last few ones.

    She heard Max bark at her as she approached. Herc and Chuck Hansen both turned, eyes falling on her form. A broad grin spread across the son’s face before he got to his feet. “Come on. Get her, Maxy!” he called, nudging his beloved bulldog in her direction.

    Greyson saw very little need for it as Max ran to her, barking playfully, dragging his leash behind him. Max went behind Greyson’s legs and nipped at her heels as she went towards Chuck. She pressed her lips into a thin line, hiding a smile. “Hey,” she greeted lamely.

    Chuck smiled directly back, brushing his lips against hers. “Hey,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her middle section. The DriveSuit was firm against her. “Where’ve you been?”

    “Oh, you know, getting into heaps of trouble.” Greyson batted her eyelashes at him mockingly.

    The young Hansen head-butted her lightly, leaning his forehead against her own. “I was lonely.”

    “I’m sure your father would love to hear that you just _adore_ his company,” she joked, combing her fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck. She braced one hand on the sturdy battle armor, meeting his eyes. “God knows what you’ll do without me, Charlie.”

    His brows furrowed together and he made a face. “Die, probably.”

    “Or worse,” Greyson started, “be expelled.”

    Chuck only groaned in return, muttering something about her being such a nerd, before leaning back down to lock lips once more.

    Herc had turned to them then, grumbling to his self and muttering, “Get a room, you two.” He had gotten out of the DriveSuit, pieces of it strewn across the tool shelving behind him.

    Marshal Pentecost called over the ruckus: “Herc! Chuck!” Chuck and Greyson immediately pulled apart. Herc grabbed Max’s leash and they all took a few steps forward. “Gentlemen, welcome to Hong Kong!”

    “Wait here.” Herc met with Stacker, Mako, and Raleigh, leaving his son behind. Greyson’s brows furrowed, confused.

    Mako called for Max with a big, toothy grin, crouching down to his height. “Hey, Max! Remember me?”

    “Don’t drool over Ms. Mori!” Herc called, as if the old dog could understand him. To the boys, he said, “He sees a girl and he gets all wound up.”

    Greyson noticed an absence of warmth and turned away from the little welcome party to see Chuck sauntering over to some tools not a few paces away. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

    “Nothing.” Chuck’s eyes landed on Raleigh’s form. He tensed, nodding in the man’s direction. “So, we’ve got Becket.”

    She stepped towards Chuck, moving her hands around his torso and pulling her chin up. “Yeah, and you’ve got me.” Greyson met him halfway with a kiss. One of his hands moved up to hold her chin before the Marshal called for their attention.

     “Yes, sir Marshal, sir?” Chuck answered, detaching himself from Greyson. The Marshal raised a brown at him menacingly and the smug look on Chuck’s face vanished quickly.

    Without looking, Greyson jabbed him in the ribs. It proved to be difficult, and stupid, because of the DriveSuit.

    The Marshal continued. “What have I told you about public displays of affection on the bay floor?”

    Chuck blinked, raising a brow himself. “Nothing, sir?”

    Greyson decided to speak up then. “Please excuse Mr. Hansen, Marshal. He doesn’t like his father’s company at night,” she said, pulling off with keeping a straight face. Very quickly, she threw a mock-glare at Chuck to which he replied with a grin.

    Under the Marshal’s scrutinizing eyes, Greyson stood just a bit taller. “Please bring Mr. Becket to his Jaeger,” he ordered.

    It took a second before the lieutenant realized that Pentecost was talking to her. “Sir, I was under the impression you had wanted me back in the LOCCENT—”

    “That can wait,” Pentecost interjected. “Mr. Hansen and I need Ms. Mori for another moment.”

    She only nodded respectfully, not bothering to argue. As Pentecost, Herc, and Mako turned to leave in the direction of K-Science, Greyson gave Raleigh a real, genuine smile when she was in his peripheral vision. “Ready to go, Rals?”

    Raleigh asked bluntly, “Would you give me a minute?”

    She nodded, almost unsure. Greyson watched as Raleigh called after the Marshal and jogged to catch up with the group. She didn’t quite overhear what he was asking, though, she surely made out a few words here or there.

    It was evidently known when Stacker Pentecost dismissed Raleigh. She turned towards Chuck, placing a hand on his arm momentarily. “Get settled, okay?”

    “Alright, love,” he answered. Chuck planted a kiss to her lips when he knew Raleigh was watching.

    Both Darcy and Becket were on their way to the platform and galley in Gipsy Danger’s hangar when the latter spoke up. His only words were, “How long?”

    Greyson slowed down to allow Raleigh to fall into step with her. “Really? We don’t talk for five years and all I get out of you now are two words?”

    Raleigh was looking everywhere, at everything, except for her. “Sorry, I just…” He took in a much-needed breath. “How long have you and Hansen been — _exclusive_?”

    She had shrugged nonchalantly at the question; however, Greyson held no intent on giving him an answer. “A while;” it was the only given reply Raleigh would get.

    Before, Raleigh had been fairly skilled at masking his feelings and emotions; however, when he looked away from her, Greyson knew the last handful of years had done their toll on him. She had never heard him so silent, so closed-off to the world. In that, Greyson had also realized she was as much of a stranger to him as he was to her now.

    Five years and nothing much as a word—

    When they reached the steps high enough to fully see the beauty that was Gipsy Danger, all of Greyson’s worries seemed to evaporate. “There she is,” she breathed out. Raleigh all but melted. A small grin plastered his lips when his eyes fell upon the supported Jaeger. Awed, he muttered a nearly inaudible ‘oh my, God.’

    Greyson followed him to the railing. They both squinted past the flying sparks made by the tech crews and out to the Mark 3. “Look at her,” Raleigh mumbled. “Gipsy Danger. God. So beautiful.” He could not seem to peel his eyes off of her. Neither could Greyson.

    Raleigh continued, “She looks like new.”

    With those words followed a broad grin from Greyson’s lips. “Oh, Rals, she’s better than new. Gipsy’s got a double-core nuclear reactor and, not to mention, a few new odds and ends that Ms. Mori and I managed to add to the blueprints.” Greyson closed her eyes as she leaned on the railing, listening to the hum of the world around her. “Mako said she’s one of a kind now.  But that girl always was.”

    They both stood there at the railing. The ever-present wonder on his face whenever he would lay eyes on Gipsy was familiar, like every time he’d see his old ‘bot. It was the same look of wonder that Yancy used to wear.

    Greyson looked at his profile before starting, “You’re okay with… being sucked into this all over again?” She shrugged, having no other way to string the proper words together in a more articulate sense. “The Marshal doesn’t want me saying, but you can still back out. You still have that option. We can find—”

    “Look me in the eye and tell me you really thought I would leave again, after coming all this way.” Raleigh had given a halfhearted smile. To Greyson, Raleigh seemed to have eased toward the environment, eased toward her, and it made all the difference.

    Even she could feel the good shift in the air.

    “How do you like your ride, Becket boy?”

    But then again, one can always _hear_ Tendo Choi before seeing him. Greyson and Raleigh turned to see the Jaeger tech chief coming up the landing.

    “Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque driver for every limb and a new fluid synapse system.” Tendo ended his listing with a flourish of his hands.

    Raleigh dropped his bag to give his old friend a long-overdue embrace.

    Tendo said, “Come here.”

    “Ah, Tendo! It’s good to see you, buddy.”

    The man in question was beaming from ear to ear as he patted Raleigh on the back. “It’s good to see you, too, brother. It’s just like old times.” He gave Greyson a discreet look when he saw that she was standing some ways away, but he didn’t voice his observation.

    Eventually, Greyson did make the few steps towards the two men. She threw an arm over Tendo’s shoulders and teased him about his never changing style.

    “The magic’s in the mystery, G,” Tendo replied in ease. “Wardrobe’s just a bonus.”

    Raleigh laughed when Greyson punched the guy in the arm. “You always were the melodramatic one.”


	13. Simple and Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold me  
> Whatever lies beyond this morning  
> Is a little later on  
> Regardless of warnings  
> The future doesn't scare me at all  
> Nothing's like before.  
> \- Utada

**_2025, January 2 – 19:58 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Following the impromptu tour, Greyson led Raleigh along the hallways and corridors until they reached his designated sleeping unit. Raleigh nudged the door opened and strode into the barren room. He dropped his bag on the bed and started to unzip it, already eager to be done with the responsibility of unpacking.

    Greyson had followed him in, only taking a few steps over the threshold. With his back to her, Raleigh spoke. “So, Sonny. What’s the word?”

    As a smirk pulled at her lips, Greyson huffed out a laugh. “Well, I do believe it’s a shortened version of my name.”

    “No, seriously.” Raleigh pulled some items from his duffel bag: a jacket and a stack of pictures all in a bundle. “You’re restoring old Jaegers, cozying it up with Hansen, showing has-beens like me around.” He finally turned to her, still fumbling with his belongings. “I know you; that can’t all be it. What, you pilot now? Chief Officer?”

    “I still help in the LOCCENT and do my work with J-Tech.” Greyson shrugged noticeably, crossing her arms. “I’m, uh, actually under Herc — I guess he’s considered the Marshal’s second, despite retaining his Sergeant title.”

    “Isn’t lieutenant above sergeant?”

    “I don’t know. Different department.” She leaned against the doorframe. “As for being a Ranger? I’m just not up for it.”

    Raleigh’s face changed into the expression he always made whenever he couldn’t believe what his friend was saying. He laughed, “Sure. Your simulator score was the highest in our class, back in the day. I know you’re comfortable with the Drift, more so with Jaegers.”

    “It’s been a while,” she muttered. Greyson’s eyes scanned the floor; avoiding the look she was given. “Things change. I wasn’t Compatible with anyone else, but you already knew that.”

    “Are you not one of the candidates tomorrow?” Raleigh began to step closer to Greyson. Supposedly out of habit, but she figured old habits die hard.

    She jutted her chin out, saying, “Nah. I’m apparently too cool to be on that list, y’know.” After letting a short laugh roll through her, Greyson sobered. She sighed. “Familiarity aside, the Marshal—”

    “—has his reasons,” Raleigh finished for her. He looked down for a moment, sifting through the photographs in his hand. “But with you being the only other person we know that’s Compatible with me, I can’t imagine what they could be.”

    Raleigh was right, and she had wondered the same thing. Greyson had voiced her opinion to Marshal Pentecost before, that they were wasting valuable time with even looking for others. Hell, she saw that even Mako could have been a good fit. One day, she’d get her answer.

    Greyson decided to change the subject, clearing her throat. “Miss Mori chose tomorrow’s candidates precisely by your scores, runs, and… other mental tests she’d reviewed. She thoroughly studied your techniques and strategies.” Lightly, she added, “And I’ve approved most of the reports.”

    “She doesn’t like me much, does she?” Raleigh inquired.

    “If it’s any consolation, I think you proved her wrong.” Greyson smiled again. “ _Before_ she met you, sure, you could say Mako didn’t like you, though all she knew of you were skills, fights, and stats.

    “She had seen you as unpredictable, a risk-taker.” Greyson gave him a look, a comforting one, and made sure to add: “But _I_ know you. You may be all of it, but so is everyone else in combat.”

    As she turned to leave, Raleigh grabbed her attention. “Greyson. Thank you.”

    “What for?”

    “For not hating me.”

    Their eyes met, and it was like experiences of the last five years apart came pouring out in the silence. Greyson could feel the air between them, filled with old feelings and new ones. Tension, forgiveness, kinship – and an old spark that attracted them together.

    Unless that was just Raleigh’s post-flight aura.

    “Do me a solid and jump into the shower, eh? If you ever need my non-hating ass, I’m just across the hall.” And then: “Be ready to meet the candidates at six hundred hours, Marshal’s orders.”

    Giving one last nod to Raleigh, Greyson turned on her heel and marched to her room directly across from his. She opened the door and ran a hand through her dark hair, thoughts flying.

    _Did_ she hate him? No, right? He just… dropped off the face of the earth when they needed each other most. And now he’s back, as if nothing happened.

    Did she hate _him_? No. She couldn’t find it in herself to. What she hated was the pain of having a hole in her heart that was shaped like the one they both lost. She hated being left alone, not willing to put trust in others until one man made her feel needed again.

    The lieutenant turned around to close her door. Raleigh came into view, and that was when she saw them. The scars. They littered Raleigh’s left shoulder, crossing over his torso and back. She hadn’t seen them since the incident, but the burns in his skin were less angry. The patterns to the scars were only just visible, having healed enough to seem like light shadows.

    Raleigh and Greyson stared at each other. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes were different. They were scared, perhaps a little nervous, but surely weren’t something Greyson had grown used to seeing.

    Was he afraid of her seeing his scars? Did he think they marked his failure of not saving his older brother? Maybe.

    Greyson only nodded slightly as her hand reached for the door lock. “I’ll see you in the morning, Rals,” she said instead. A soft smile painted Raleigh’s lips as he nodded to her. She plopped herself haphazardly onto her chilled mattress when the door shut.

    Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

**2025, January 3 – 05:27 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China**

Greyson awoke to a session of knocks on her door. Grumbling to herself, she slid off the bed, sluggishly making her way to the door. Not bothering to see who had woken her, she opened it.

    “What?” she snapped, yawning almost immediately.

    The person that was at the door just laughed. “Sorry,” he said, smothered by chuckles. “Did I wake you?”

    “Yeah, actually,” Greyson muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She blinked, meeting Raleigh Becket’s gaze. He had on a new uniform sweater, fairly identical to hers. “Are you trying to steal my wardrobe on purpose, or what?” she joked.

    Looking down, Raleigh pulled at the hem of his sweater. “Oh.” Raising a brow, the Becket sported a cheeky grin. “I do pull it off better, don’t you think?”

    “And when I thought your ego couldn’t have gotten _any_ bigger, Mr. Becket.” Greyson just scoffed before telling him to wait for her to freshen up.

    Raleigh smiled, standing patiently at the door frame. He called, “You know you love me, Ms. Darcy.” She had thrown some expletives in his direction, but the toothbrush in her mouth muffled it.

    Raleigh chatted her up on their way to the food. He asked about the other Ranger teams; Greyson asked him about his time working on The Wall. It was a sort of give-and-take that the Filipina missed. She noticed that they avoided all topics of Yancy’s death.

    When they arrived in the mess hall, Greyson didn’t even bother being surprised at how most of the tables were taken up, even so early in the morning. It looked like any other mess hall in every military facility in the world.

    The Russian Ranger, Aleksis Kaidonovsky cut in front of them, completely ignoring Raleigh but giving Greyson a curt nod. His wife, Sasha, held her hand out to beckon him over as the two of them passed their table.

    Raleigh hesitantly took a glance back at them inconspicuously. “He’s glaring at me — why is he glaring at me?”

    Greyson said, “He’s not glaring, just sizing you up.”

    “Why? Because I’m the new guy?”

    “Because the Marshal chose you over Scott Hansen.” Greyson left it at that. It wasn’t the least bit true; Pentecost didn’t even consider calling up the man, whatever he’d done in the past had already tainted his reputation.

    Thankfully, Herc Hansen came down the steps with two filled trays in his hands. “Raleigh! Sonny!”

    “Hey, Herc,” Greyson said in greet, making a grab for one of the food trays. She frowned when he dodged her and all but handed a tray to Raleigh.

    “Come sit with us,” Herc said when he turned to the blond.

    The one in question only smiled in respectful kindness, shaking his head. “No, I’m okay, thank you. I was just going to—”

    “Nonsense. There’s plenty of room at our table.”

    “C’mon, Rals.” Greyson nudged his side. “Don’t know any other suckers that’ll willingly sit by _your_ sorry ass.” She began laughing as they walked.

    Raleigh threw shade with a serious bitch-face. “You’re so hilarious,” he hissed with an overly dramatic follow.

    Herc shook his head, leading them to his table. There were a few other ‘Dome staffers on the far end of the large bench. Chuck sat at the end with Max beside him. The sour look on his face turned into smiled upon seeing his girlfriend. “Mornin’, love.”

    Greyson gave him a kiss before taking a seat, adjacent to Raleigh across the table.

    “I haven’t seen bread in a while,” Raleigh remarked, moving beside Herc. He reached for a roll just as Greyson had; it was still warm.

    “Hong Kong,” Herc said. “The beauty of an open port. No rationing. We got potatoes, peas, sweet beans, some decent meatloaf…”

    Max stood on his hind legs, his front paws resting on the space between the lovers. As Chuck fed Max the meatloaf sitting on the table, Greyson noticed that he didn’t have a full food tray like his father and Raleigh. She made a face at him, asking a silent question. Chuck just glanced at the two men across the table before shrugging and shaking his head in annoyance.

    “Raleigh, this is my son, Chuck,” Herc said in introduction to ease away from the previous conversation. He put down the mashed potatoes that he was previously shoveling onto his tray. “He’s my co-pilot now.”

    Of course; the last time Raleigh saw Herc was in Manila, with Lucky Seven. Previously, Herc’s brother Scott had been his winger. Greyson figured that Raleigh had remembered Chuck from last night. The reintroduction was Herc’s way of making a point to his son, that Raleigh was no outsider to them.

    “He’s more my co-pilot now, right, Dad?” Chuck joked, a smirk strewn lazily on his lips.

    Herc gave him a quizzical stare; one that said, _Boy, you better be nice._ Greyson nudged Chuck, giving him a separate look altogether.

    “So, you’re the guy, huh?” Chuck asked after clearing his throat. “You’re the guy who’s gonna run defense for me in that old rust bucket o’ yours?”

    Greyson noted the moment Herc froze entirely at his son’s words, eye brows knitted together, only blinking his eyes once. The look he wore said it all: _Oh, no, he did not_.

    “That’s the plan,” Raleigh muttered coolly.

    “Hey,” Greyson butted in, slightly offended. “Gipsy Danger’s got some miles on her, but she’s as good as new.”

    Chuck took the food and continued feeding Max. “Right. Good. When was the last time you jockeyed, Ray?” he inquired, looking Raleigh dead in the eye.

    _Ray?_

    Raleigh placed a hand on his hip, his tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek. “About five years ago.”

    “What’ve you been doing for five years? Something pretty important, I reckon.”

    “I was in construction,” Raleigh answered gruffly, sliding into a poker-face. Greyson and Herc shared a look, and they both knew this wasn’t going to end well.

    Chuck huffed a laugh. “Oh! Well, that’s great! That’s really useful,” he bit sarcastically. “You know, we get in a fight, you can _build_ our way out of it, ey Ray?” He had said it so straightforward, so condescendingly. It almost hurt to watch.

    “It’s Raleigh,” the owner of the name finally corrected. It was apparent that he was slowly and surely losing the cool temperament he had once acquired. Chuck’s attitude matched Raleigh’s old one, and they both knew it.

    “Whatever,” Chuck pressed. “Look. You’re Pentecost’s bright idea. My old man, he seems to like you, but its guys like you who brought down the Jaeger Program. To me, you’re dead weight.” He began to stand up, staring down Raleigh.

    Greyson didn’t look at him, but instead said in warning, “Let it go, Charlie…”

    “You slow me down,” Chuck continued, pulling his bull cap over his head, “I’m gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit.” He winked, clicking his tongue. “I’ll see you around, _Rahh_ leigh.” He called for Max. They all watched him walk away.

    “You can blame me for that one,” Herc said, finally speaking up again. The other two looked his way. “I raised him on me own. Smart kid, but I never knew whether to give him a hug or a kick in the ass.”

    After a moment’s thought, Raleigh answered, “With respect, sir, I’m pretty sure which one he needs.”

    Greyson snorted, coughed, nearly choking on her drink. Herc kept a stoic face. “He’s… been doing better lately, I think,” the father said, leveling with Raleigh. “Sonny’s been good to him.”

    “Oh, I dunno, Herc,” she said, “it was pretty touch-and-go just now.” She found an extra fork and reached across the table to eat off of Raleigh’s tray.

    “I take it back,” Raleigh slowly muttered, with a sly smile on his face. “ _You’re_ the one who needs a kick in the ass.”

    The lieutenant shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Chuck’s a perfectionist. He’s too prideful for his own good, but he sure does make up for it in battle.” Giving a knowing glance to Herc, she finished, “Respectfully, it runs in the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-2-17.


	14. Thnks Fr the Mmrs

**_2025, January 4 – 06:00 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

After breakfast the next day, Greyson had found Chuck back in his room, and then set aiming to help him with finding items he had haphazardly stowed away. The girl had brought up the conversation in the mess hall, one he vaguely (actually not really) apologized for.

    She was rifling through a thick stack of papers on the bedside table when she noticed an update memo from J-Tech, one that she had yet to see. Pulling it out, Greyson gave it a once-over before having Chuck take a look. “I haven’t gotten this yet. Where did you get it?”

    Chuck shrugged. “Dad got it yesterday, I guess.”

    Greyson scanned through the restoration project update. Gipsy Danger’s upgraded attributes were listed down, as well as the many restores features. It also mentioned a few things about the physical trials Raleigh and the five yet-to-fight candidates.

    A personal aside was attached to the end by Mako: “This candidate strenuously objects to being removed from the list of finalists.”

    It was then that Greyson remembered all about Raleigh’s trials very soon. When she felt Chuck’s hands trail from her shoulders to her hips, her mind went blank. Chuck kissed the spot behind her ear. “Let me tell you. After this damned war ends, after we close the Breach, I’m gonna take you out to dinner.”

    Greyson pursed her lips into a held-back smile, turning herself to face him. “Nice choice of words,” she commented. “Alright. I’m listening.”

    “Paris!” Chuck marveled, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He pressed a kiss to Greyon’s lips. “The City of Romance. What d’you think?”

    “ _Romantic_ ,” she chuckled, pulling a strand of hair above her upper lip, laughing like an evil Frenchman.

    Chuck ran a hand through Greyson’s dark brown hair, brushing the strands from her face. He pulled her into another kiss, brushing his lips against hers. “We’ll spend Christmas, probably. I’ll bring you to the best restaurant they’ve got. Go by the Tower. Overlooking the city, I’ll confess my undying love to you. I’ll get down on one knee; ask you to marry me…”

    The pad of her thumb traced the line of his jaw. “And, my little accidental poet, I’ll say ‘no’,” Greyson whispered sweetly.

    The ginger blinked, confused. “What?”

    Greyson snorted most unattractively, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “I’m kidding. Of course, I’d say ‘yes’!” They didn’t speak to each other for a few minutes. Both of them were preoccupied with… each other.

    The door to the Hansens’ room opened suddenly. Herc strutted in, visibly jolting. “Crikey! C’mon, kiddos, I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

    “Seem old enough to me,” retorted Chuck, smirking. His arms snaked around Greyson’s middle, pulling her flush against him. “Besides. I think our kid would be _damn_ adorable.”

    She swallowed down a rising laugh, masking it with a small cough.

    “Greyson, the Becket kid was looking for you earlier,” Herc said instead, giving a stern look to his son afterwards. “He’s probably up at the studio by now.”

    “Did he mention why?” Greyson inquired lamely, making a lazy and feeble attempt to escape Chuck’s grip.

    “I would’a told you if he did.”

    Both Greyson and Chuck headed out for the Kwoon training room. There was a large crowd there already, blocking much of any view within. Of course everyone would be keen to witness this _most_ historic event. Greyson, after following Chuck’s motion to weave in between the tightly packed bodies, eventually saw and heard the hanbos hitting each other as Raleigh and one of the candidates went all-in. She was examining the fight intently; scrutinizing the Becket’s every move. Greyson had to admit that he looked focused, concentrated, firm.

    It was obvious his first opponent didn’t have much respect for him by how he fought; the round was pretty much over before it even began. The second ended incredibly quicker than the first having only lasted merely thirty seconds.

    Greyson had since been anticipating Raleigh’s moves and countermoves, his attacks and feigns, and was slowly seeing how rusty he had become. Looking across the room to where Marshal Pentecost and Mako Mori stood, she realized that Mako held the mirroring look as she. Greyson also noticed the way Raleigh was always looking at Mako from the corner of his eye; he never was very subtle. Then again, he probably sought the need to do so. Mako had grown unhappy as the matches continued. She didn’t exactly look angry, more disappointed; perhaps a little disgusted at his performance.

    Chuck leaned down to her ear, remarking rather snarkily, “Stuff of legends, right?”

    She angled her head to look at him, expression unimpressed and yet expectant. “Wouldn’t judge so fast. You guys are like the two sides to the same coin.”

    That shut him up.

    “Okay, what?” Raleigh took a few steps towards Mako, pressing his hanbo to the mat and resting his hands over it. “You don’t like them? I thought you selected them personally.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “Every time a match ends, you make this little… gesture.” Lacking the proper words to explain her expression, Greyson assumed Raleigh tried to mimic her look by the way he paused. “Like you’re critical of their performance.”

    “It’s not their performance,” Mako started, “it’s yours. Your gambit. You could have taken all of them two moves earlier.”

    “You think so?”

    “I know so.”

    It was getting quite difficult to hear their conversation from all the way across the room, Greyson thought. With the growing crowd came a growing background noise. She watched as the three exchanged words; saw the yearning look on Mako’s face. The next thing she knew, both Raleigh and Mako were standing on the mat.

    “Remember, it’s about Compatibility. It’s a dialogue, not a fight. I’m not gonna dial down my moves.” Raleigh’s voice was void of all humor.

    “Okay,” Mako chirped freely before turning to Becket. “Then neither will I.”

    Greyson felt a sense of pride for her in that moment and let a broad, beaming grin spread across her lips. As she watched, her eyes followed both sets of movements: steps, hits, swings, dodges. Their advances were instantaneous, attacks almost anticipated. Mirrored and fluid strokes were executed with swift whips and retaliations.

    Mako took Raleigh down and the Marshal called it. All around her was applause from the spectators. Rangers and trainees and staffers alike had gathered at the front of the Kwoon. More had trickled in since their start.

    “Enough. I’ve seen what I needed to see,” Pentecost announced.

    “Me, too,” Raleigh huffed. He put a light hand to Mako’s back and dropped it soon after. “She’s my co-pilot.”

    “That doesn’t work.”

    “Why not?” Raleigh countered, pressing like he always did. Greyson knew he would be holding some thoughts back to any argument, because even Raleigh Becket had discretion sometimes.

    “Because I said so, Mr. Becket. I have made my decision. Report to the Shatterdome in two hours and find out who your co-pilot will be.”

    People began to leave then. The Marshal slipped to the back and Mako grabbed her things. Chuck had a smug look on his face, hands held behind his back. “Well, that was fun.”

    Greyson sighed in disapproval, her eyes not leaving Raleigh’s form. Their gaze met when he turned, and there was a familiar look to them that she couldn’t quite place.

**_2025, January 4 – 07:05 – Hong Kong Shatterome, Hong Kong, China_ **

_Shouts and yells and screams had woken Greyson. It was four in the morning, back then._

_She was six._

_“’Nay?”_

_Jane Darcy skittered past the child with an armful of clothes within her embrace. Her mother paid her no mind._

_Confused, Greyson pulled her over-sized shirt up on her shoulders. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she hopped to the master bedroom. The sight inside was jarring: there was a hole in the wall. Dresser mirrors were broken and William was sitting on the side of their mattress with his head in his hands._

_Greyson was moved out from the doorway. Jane slipped by, into the bedroom. She went back into the walk-in closet, coming back out with yet another bundle of her clothes._

_“_ ’Nay, ano po ang ginagawa ninyo? _”_ Mom, what are you doing? _Alarmed, and having finally though slowly pieced some pieces together, the young child asked, “Are you leaving?”_

 _“You’re staying with your father,_ anak _,” Jane said in English. She had said it so firmly, so decidedly, so brokenly. Greyson was in such shock that she didn’t know what to do, or even what to say._

_Greyson followed her mother to the living room, where her luggage bags were sat. “Spencer’s parents broke up. None of them are happy anymore,” Greyson said. “Why you too?” She was just talking; spitting out words to stall her, to allow for more time. More time. That was all she wanted._

_Even at six, she it was a fatal, her attempt._

_Jane turned around and faced her only daughter. She visibly steeled herself before speaking. “I…_ Anak, hindi na kita mahal _.”_ I don’t love you anymore _. She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t mean it. Jane was crying — would she really mean it?_

 _The child didn’t believe it as real. It must have been a dream, just a bad dream. That couldn’t be. She didn’t want it._ She didn’t.

_And Greyson couldn’t stop her mother from walking out their front door. Neither could her father. Jane had gone into that cab and driven off. She didn’t even look back. She wouldn’t let anyone see her cry._

_William was on his knees, holding his daughter in his embrace as she cried. He tried to console her best he knew, but having a parent walk out on you was rough on anyone. Greyson wasn’t exactly sure what happened, why it happened, but she knew enough that there chances were slim of her seeing her mother any time soon._

_The next door’s front opened and out walked a very confused Richard Becket. Having heard the commotion and yells, he had gone to his front porch to see what was going on. He walked to the Darcys and assured his best friend that everything was going to be just fine, telling him that he didn’t need to worry about anything._

_Greyson remembered being hauled into her father’s arms as he picked her up. She remembered catching a glimpse of the Becket brothers’ window and seeing a nine-year-old Yancy at the pane._

    Jasper. Chuck. Helicopters. Yancy. Drift Simulators. Jane. William. Kaiju. Jaegers. Rangers. Raleigh. It all came back to her like a train going too fast on a bend. Everything rushed through her and woke her up from an already restless power nap.

    Her eyes opened. The room was dark, but her news outlet was turned onto Channel 22 and the reporters were talking and the United Nations were being interviewed and there was Striker Eureka on the air again, with the tagline: MASS PROTESTS AFTER SYDNEY FAILURE. “… _In the wake of the Sydney incident, which shows the ineffective nature of the Wall of Life Program, many are questioning the government’s motives and wondering why the Jaeger Program has been discontinued. Riots have erupted along the coastlines of several Pan-Pacific cities_.”

    Greyson could still feel the heaviness of her chest. She hadn’t dreamed about that night in who knows how long. It had been years already since the last time she saw her mother, though her half-sibling made sure to keep contact in some way.

    “ _We have now relocated millions of civilians and supplies, three hundred miles inland, to the safe zones_.” It was the United Nations representative for the States, Taylor. She could recognize that voice anywhere. On-site reporters were saying the zones were only for the rich and powerful and he would back-up the Wall plan like it hadn’t just been proved useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-10-15.


	15. Flawed Design

**_2025, January 3 – 09:19 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Even after the whole threat of the Neural Handshake test-run nearly decimating a highly large portion of the Hong Kong Shatterdome had passed, many people were still stiff and antsy. Who could blame any of them, honestly? There was that slim chance most would have survived unscathed.

    In truth, Greyson had never heard a Shatterdome so quiet.

    She soon found that Marshal Pentecost eventually did allow for Mako to be sent into Gipsy Danger as Raleigh’s new co-pilot. At the time, she supposed the Marshal had no ill intent, with and including literally sending the Jaeger Program off with a memorable bang.

   Raleigh and Mako were still getting their DriveSuits taken off when Greyson arrived. Some techs were just finishing up when she stepped into the room. Tools whirred and buzzed, echoing in the room. The lieutenant saw the grave expressions on their faces and the techs looked mighty angry at work while the other two just stood there in silence. In fact, the room was incredibly silent; enough, even, for a person to hear a pin drop.

    “Who died?” Greyson remarked, looking at the others with a look of faux interest. When no one replied to her, she added quite sheepishly, “Too soon?”

    “Not at all.” It was Raleigh who had spoken so sarcastically. His hair was tousled and standing in various directions in that just-fucked sort of way, and Greyson had known him for just long enough to know.

    Greyson Darcy waited at the entrance to the DriveSuit Room while the both of them finished getting settled from the feat of detaching the suit. "Are you guys alright?" she asked immediately once within earshot.

    “I’ve had better days,” Raleigh told her honestly though blunt, cracking his neck afterwards.

    Mako stayed silent, and Greyson noticed. "Hey, nothing is anyone's fault, you got it?" She made a point to look at the both of them. "It could've happened to anyone." Greyson caught Mako's look and finished with: ".. _.Of course_ , those said anyones probably wouldn't almost decimate the Shatterdome, but we all make mistakes, yeah?"

    Raleigh’s voice broke through the lingering silence in the air. "Where have you been, anyway?" he asked his friend.

    "Well,” Greyson drawled in over-exaggeration, “if anyone had bothered to wake me up, I wouldn't have slept through all the fun.”

    “You still run off fumes and ten-minute power naps?”

    “When have I not? Y’all should know.”

    Raleigh's brows furrowed. Along came his mocking grin. "Did you just say  _y'all_?"

    She shoved his shoulder as they walked on. "I used to spend much of my free time in the southwest region; you know that, _Mr._   _Freeze Your Ass off in Alaska_."

    "At least we don't get fried up there, _Ms._   _Die in the Dry Heat of Arizona_."

    "That is...” Greyson wracked her brain for a particular word, hoping to find it in a moment’s notice. She decided to go with, “…state-ist!"

    "Sadist?"

    "State-ist."       

    Raleigh took a moment to just stare at her in a mixture of amusement and awe. " _State_ -ist?" he repeated, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things he shouldn’t have been.

    "Yeah. Like, you know, racist or sexist, except instead of race or gender, it's stereotyping against the...  _states_...?" Her shoulders started shifting upwards.

    Both Mako and Raleigh burst out laughing.

**_2025, January 3 – 17:35 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Tendo Choi and Greyson Darcy both planted themselves in the Local Command Center in an attempt to reattach the wires and plugs and cables to the main console, most of which became damaged due to how roughly they were yanked out in the rush to shut down Gipsy Danger. Before the Marshal had left, he had instructed Tendo to inspect the Jaeger.

    The techs knew it wasn’t the Jaeger that caused the problems. Gipsy Danger was, as the Tech Chief Officer had mentioned, only responding to Mako’s subconscious fear. Nothing of that level had been witnessed.

    People were slowly trickling back into their designated areas. Crews were back in the hangar bays. Rangers were roaming; same with the other staffers.

    Repairing the console in the LOCCENT and reinserting the proper cables in the proper places reminded Greyson of her high school days, when she was in the media internship at her school. She had been one of the interns that set up equipment for their filming.

    “You should probably get to the Marshal’s office,” Tendo said out of the blue. Greyson nearly didn’t catch it being as he was under the console itself.

    “What about you?” she asked him, pushing back in the chair to see his form under the table.

    Tendo rolled out from under the control console, standing and practically forced Greyson to leave the area. “I got this,” the chief said, thumbing the side of his nose.

    So that was where Greyson was heading, the Marshal’s quarters. The incident definitely couldn’t go unnoticed, and she was sure everyone had some sort of word in its wake. Raleigh and Mako were bound to have been cleared by the medics and her assumptions were proved correct when she turned the corner to the hall. Her steady pace had slowed considerably. Chuck could be heard yelling as he vented.

    Upon her approach, Raleigh quit his nervous pacing and looked up to meet her gaze. His expression mirrored the entire spectrum of feelings boiling together inside: from that she was getting a migraine.

    “This is ridiculous!” she heard Chuck bark loudly. “She can’t control her Drift, and he went out of phase first!”

    “We all know what happened,” Marshal Pentecost put calmly.

    “We can’t afford mistakes. They’re putting our lives at risk — and our whole mission. The kaiju keep evolving, they keep kicking our asses!” He definitely had a hot head; everyone knew it, had even anticipated it. “He’s a has-been, she’s a rookie. You think I want them on _my wing_ when I drop a nuke into the Breach? I don’t want them protecting my bomb run, sir.”

    Mako, Raleigh, and Greyson were stood against the wall parallel to the Marshal’s door. Her frown deepened when Chuck told the Marshal that the two beside her didn’t “deserve to pilot a Jaeger, sir.”

    Greyson winced inwardly, sighing at his words. They were rightfully harsh, but Chuck’s words were spouted so casually that it was even more bitter-sounding.

    The door was thrown open in an instant’s notice. Out of the door came from the Marshal: “You need to watch your tone, Mr. Hansen.”

    Greyson gritted her teeth together and her jaw locked when she saw how angry Chuck Hansen truly was. Half of her wanted to go to him and calm him down, but the other half wanted to walk away and stay clear of his wrath.

    With wide eyes, the lieutenant stole a glance at Herc, standing at the Marshal’s doorway, with an inclination in his eyes to follow his son. He pointed to him. “Hey, stay there. Give me a moment.” Then, the door closed once more. She could hear bits and pieces of Herc and Pentecost’s conversation, but she was more preoccupied hovering over Chuck as he focused his attention to Raleigh’s form.

    “Looks like you heard me.” Chuck walked up to the two. “Good,” he snapped. “Saves me from repeating myself.” He inched even closer, staring him down. Daring him to move. Throw a punch. Something. “You two are a goddamn disgrace. You’re gonna get us all killed, and here’s the thing, _Rahh_ leigh: It’s been five years since you jockeyed a Jaeger? That’s a bloody lifetime in Jaeger tech and you know it. I actually want to _come back_ from this mission, because I quite like my life. I want a _life_ , with her.” He took a breath. “So why don’t you,” Chuck sniffed, flicking Raleigh in the chest, “just do us all a favor and disappear, yeah? Seems like it’s the only thing you’re good at.”

    Greyson stepped beside her boyfriend, looking at him with wariness written all over her expression. “Chuck,” she warned. “Leave this alone.”

    Had he even heard her? Perhaps, though he didn’t show it.

    She pulled him by the elbow, purposefully positioning herself in between his body and Raleigh’s. “Charlie,” she said once under her breath, and he immediately quit his banter.

    Raleigh muttered something along the lines of, “Don’t get involved, Grey,” and it had ignited the whole issue all over again.

    Greyson stopped. Chuck didn’t.

    “You think you’re so tough, aye, _Rahh_ leigh, sauntering around this ‘Dome like you never left?”

    “Charles Hansen, I will give you two seconds to shut your mouth because Heaven so help me—”

    Mako stepped up beside Greyson, with a loud voice saying, “Stop. Now,” and Raleigh held up a hand to hold her shoulder, holding her back. Chuck noticed the small movement and sneered. “Yeah, that’s right. You just hold back your little girlfriend. One of you bitches needs a leash.”

    Raleigh threw a punch without missing a beat, and Chuck’s head snapped back dangerously. The whiplash hurt even to watch. Greyson couldn’t be sure if she had yelped out a word of opposition before Mako pulled her out of the way. It had taken half a second and another swing from the older Ranger before made contact with Raleigh’s mouth.

    After that, it was an all-out knuckles brawl.

    Greyson would have intervened if Mako wasn’t there and if it weren’t for the fact the two grown-ass men were taking mean hits, holding absolutely nothing back. She had rather kept conscious, thanks.

    Anyone in the immediate area heard the ruckus and soon enough an audience grew. The throng was filled with everyone who was anyone that saw what happened in the mess hall on Day 1; people who waited for this fight in particular sooner or later. Something like that was longer awaited than a Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather match.

    Raleigh was pummeling Chuck. It hurt to watch as much as it must have hurt to be hit. Greyson began keeping track of their contact. When they go back to the medical bay, she could probably be of some assistance.

    “Apologize to her,” Raleigh growled out. “To both of them.”

    “Screw you” was the only answer he got back.

    Chuck got a few punches in the ribs. Raleigh might have a nasty bruise on his gut. Both of them would have a nastier set of sores and bruises on their faces eventually. Broken noses. Cracked ribs. Fractured jaws.

    When Raleigh rammed Chuck into a wall, the broke the pressure valves that ran along the wall. The ginger Wolverine stood in the mist for a second, giving a glare that would have scared the living daylight out of anyone.

    But not Raleigh. “I said, apologize to them.” The Becket tracked Hansen as he stalked back in his front view, grimacing.

    Chuck’s forearm made contact with Raleigh’s face, but the latter sprang back and elbowed the former at the hinge of his jaw, just below the ear. Greyson cringed upon hearing the near inaudible crack. He got slammed into the wall again when he went slack. Chuck made a dire attempt to spin away, but Raleigh caught his arm and twisted it at an odd angle, throwing his leg up for leverage and slamming Chuck over to the ground.

    He could have, would have, dislocated his arm if Herc hadn’t yelled at the two to stop. “Hey, hey! Enough!” Herc had a look in his eye — the kind of look only a father could give. A father’s dangerous thunder that Greyson had seen only twice before; once with her own father, and once more the minute Chuck and she had met.

    “What the hell are you two doing?” he demanded. “What’s going on? On your feet, both of you!”

    Raleigh shoved away forcibly, letting his grip go. They both stood within a matter of seconds.

    Pentecost had walked out behind Herc, looking as disappointed as the day he called both Yancy and Raleigh to his office all those years ago the same reason. “Becket, Mori, into my office.”

    “No, we aren’t finished!” Chuck, pulling his right hand away from his left shoulder, took an advance at Raleigh, but Herc and Greyson both took hold of him and forced him back. He braced at his front while she threw a hard arm over his shoulders, hauling him back.

    “Hey, this is over!” the father growled. “You’re a Ranger for Christ’s sake. Why don’t you start acting like one?”

    Chuck struggled, but with one stern look from both his father and girlfriend, he knew that he had lost something important even before the fight had begun. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Then, he gave a hard glare to Raleigh before returning to look at her. The words he spoke were a mere whisper: “Let me go.”

    “Charlie,” Greyson muttered through gritted teeth, “don’t do this.”

    Raleigh and Mako left the scene, and soon the rest of the bystanders followed. Chuck shook himself from the grip of both his father and Greyson and began sulking away. She watched as he walked, further and further away from her. The lieutenant breathed a sigh, meeting Herc’s eye after his silent conversation with the Marshal.

    “I’ll go after him,” the father said lightly, dragging a roughed palm on his face. He looked, to Greyson, so worn down and done with the world, and yet he defied it all and was standing on his own two feet, alone, dealing with a son who didn’t know what to do with his self.

    Greyson finally said, “I should go, too,” but Herc stopped her. She nodded reluctantly. A draw of the breath; she didn’t say what was on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-10-15.


	16. Parachute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-10-15.

**_2025, January 4 – 17:51 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“I went out of phase first,” Raleigh defended, voice firm. “It was my mistake,” he said about the previous hour’s plight.

    “No,” Marshal Stacker Pentecost huffed, back to both Becket and Mori. “It was my mistake.” He turned away from the sunset view from his office window and spoke to the two people in his presence. “I should have never let you two in the same machine.”

    “So, what?” Raleigh spoke up, challenging the Marshal like he always had. “You’re grounding us?”

    “Not you.”

    He could figure out what the Marshal had meant. His eyes said it all. Raleigh was slowly coming to his maximum boiling point. What bullshit it all was!

    Mako stood straight, at attention. Her eyes held tears that she refused to let go. With all she had left, Mako asked, “Permission to be dismissed… sir?”

    There was a certain glimmer in his eyes. A look Raleigh was all too familiar with. After a moment, Pentecost answered, “Permission granted, Ms. Mori.”

    Mako then gave a hard, respectful bow before beginning her leave, meeting Raleigh’s eyes for a mere second when he called her name. He knew that look: It had summed up what they both saw in the Drift.

    Raleigh had once been not unlike Mako; wanting to be a pilot, to be a Ranger, because they just _knew_ in their bones that they had to. He was determined, anyone could say, to stand up for Mako. All discretion and filters the man once had been thrown out the window in his growing rage.

    “Sir, what are you doing?” His blue eyes locked onto the Marshal’s. “She is the strongest candidate _by far_. She has a clear connection to that Jaeger, the strongest Neural Handshake I’ve ever felt. Even stronger than—” Raleigh caught himself, considering his words. He figured it to be the truth because the next words that passed his lips were: “Even stronger than Yancy.”

    When Pentecost ignored him, he got to his feet in the heat of the moment. “What other options do we have? Huh? Tell me!”

    “Do not let my calm demeanor fool you, _Ranger!_ Now is not a good moment for your insubordination!” Pentecost, though apparently making the attempt to rein in what was left of his temper, took a few steps in the boy’s direction. “Mako is too inexperience to rein in her memories during combat.”

    Though there was truth in his words, he knew that Pentecost was only using it for an excuse — a shit excuse, at that. As the Marshal took the time the leave his office, Raleigh called out after him with a challenge, “That’s not why you grounded her.”

    “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

    “I was in her memories. I saw _everything_.”

    “I don’t care what you think you saw,” the Marshal said.

    “I know what she means to you,” Raleigh countered. “I saw it.”

    The Marshal turned on his heel and left.

    “Hey, hey!”

    Pentecost called out, “This conversation is over.”

    Raleigh rushed out after him and hustled to keep up. “Marshal. Marshal, can we talk about this for one second?” He grabbed the Marshal by the arm and hauled him around. If he wasn’t already done for by then, he would soon be. Raleigh Becket had broken every fucking rule in the standard protocol by merely _touching_ the Marshal.

    Marshal Pentecost had a look of a raging fire in his eyes. The two of them stared at each other for a moment; Raleigh knew he was in deep waters, speechless, and Stacker was about ready to whoop upside the head. Instead, he called for the lift.

    “You rescued her,” Raleigh continued. “You raised her. You’re not protecting her now. You are holding her back.”

    The Marshal raised a finger, shoving it into Raleigh’s face. In a tight voice, he spoke. “One: Don’t you ever touch me again. Two: Don’t you _ever_ touch me again.”

    Raleigh stayed quiet. Because a good little soldier didn’t interfere. They stood tall and quiet with their hands behind their back. It was protocol. It was by the book. People followed through and they didn’t get grounded or suspended. Unless, of course, you were Raleigh Becket because he sometimes does have a filter and other times not.

    Pentecost breathed back a very dark remark, Raleigh could tell. “Now, you have no idea who the hell I am or where I’ve come from and I’m not about to tell you my whole life story. All I need to be to you and everybody on this ‘Dome is a fixed point. The last man standing.” His never wavering gaze made Raleigh look aside to avoid it before looking him in the eye. “I do not need your sympathy or your admiration. All I need is your compliance and your fighting skills. And if I can’t get that, then you can go back to the wall that I found you crawling on.”

    The elevator doors opened and Raleigh sighed under his breath.

    “Do I make myself clear?” Pentecost interrogated. The tone in his voice was made to egg Raleigh on, to see if he’d go further across the line he had stumbled across.

    Raleigh took a second before nodding his reply, but the Marshal wouldn’t take that for an answer. Just as Pentecost pointed to his ear: “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

    “Good,” the Marshal huffed before entering the elevator.

    The doors to the lift slid closed as Greyson Darcy walked down the corridor from the direction of the Marshal’s office. She slunk up beside Raleigh, asking, “Don’t you need to go that way, too, or—?”

    “Shh.”

    “But—”

    “Shh.”

    “Did you just _shush_ _me_? I—”

    “Shh.”

**_2025, January 4 – 18:10 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Herc knew where Chuck would have run off to. The boy had always felt at home with the mechs wherever he went, even if home was just too far away. He had taken a quarter of an hour to tone down his temper and mull over what he would say to his son. It didn’t take Herc too long to find Chuck in Striker Eureka’s bay, among the other Chinese techs that were working on her.

    “Hydrolics are shot,” Chuck said immediately after seeing his father walk over. Over the rock band playing through the radio, he added, “We need to replace ‘em.”

    The father reached an arm over and turned off the radio spouting whatever kind of rock, saying, “He’s, uh, he’s grounded Mako.”

    “Good,” Chuck huffed, switching back the station volume. “That’s half of the right decision but I want Becket off this mission more than I do her.” He strutted over to the tool shelf and found an automatic drill.

    It was in that moment — something to do with Chuck’s boyish demeanor or even the impulse he had for the ever-childish rivalry to get rid of an ally on their team when the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps was already up to their necks with problems… In that moment, his own son had shoved him over an edge he had been approaching for some time.

    Herc lowered the volume of the radio this time, deciding not to turn off the so-called ‘music’.

    “I’m listening to that,” Chuck complained, toggling with the switch on the radio.

    “Who are you?” Herc asked him in a low tone, forcefully shutting the radio off.

    “Excuse me?”

    “I don’t even recognize you anymore. Who are you?”

    “Who am _I_?” Chuck reiterated, brows knitting together in confusion. He looked annoyed to be asked the question and not know its answer. “What do you mean?”

    “ _Who_ are you?” he demanded, coming up into his son’s personal space.

    “I’m the only chance we’ve got to deliver that bomb, is who I am—” Chuck had started.

    Herc said, “Not the point.”

    “—but I’m stuck with two prison guards, the basketball triplets, Tokyo pop, and a washout.”

    “Not the point!” Herc said, louder this time.

    Chuck felt the need to get louder, too. “Pentecost may be a great man, but he hasn’t seen combat in, what? Ten years, maybe? More? The only chance we’re got at a future is delivering that bomb, and I am the one doing it—”

    “That’s not what I’m talking about!”

    “ _That’s_ who I am!”

    Herc and he just stared at each other for a long, tense moment before he huffed out, “You’re a great Ranger. Is that what you want to hear?” he challenged, eyes locked on his son’s. “Everybody knows that.”

    In a yearning tone, Chuck asked, “What more do you want me to be?”

    “A better person!” Herc barked gruffly, anger rising within him.

    Chuck’s shoulders had slumped and he showed the expression of someone thoroughly finished with everything. “A better person?” he echoed in disbelief. He dropped the drill onto the shelving and harshly shoved his father’s shoulder as he passed. “You know what? At least you can’t blame yourself, because you didn’t raise me to be anything,” Chuck growled, turning on his heel and talking at Herc’s back. “After Mom died, I spent more time with these machines than I ever did with you.”

    Herc remembered. He remembered that day in Sydney, leaving from the base and being pulled into two, having to choose who to save: his son or his wife. Authorities had given the entire population of downtown Sydney only one hour to evacuate.

    One hour for five million people to get to safety, if there ever was.

    He remembered distinctly how he felt going into the city while everyone else was trying to get out. There was no way to find anyone, and he was forced to choose. He chose Chuck, and Chuck had never forgiven him for it.

    But Herc Hansen had sacrificed everything for his boy, and Chuck would always hate him. Oftentimes the ex-RAF pilot wanted to sit his son down and say, _Hey, listen, would you really rather I had let you die so I could save your mother? Is that what you want?_

    _Because I pray to any and all gods that have ever existed that you never have to make that choice._

    It was true. Herc never wanted Chuck to go through what he did, having to play God with peoples’ lives in his hands and whose lives relied on his decisions; decisions that slowly but surely break you down, tear up everything you’re made up of.

    Not that he would listen. Chuck never listened to anyone.

    Chuck wasn’t finished with his ungodly rant. “And the only reason you and I even _speak_ anymore, old man, is because we are Drift Compatible. We are good at smashing things up, you and I.”

    Herc turned to face his son then, still voiceless.

    “You know what? We don’t even need to speak at all.” Chuck’s voice was low and tough, and Herc knew he was steeling himself up for it.

    The father opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What do you say to a son who felt as if his father didn’t care enough about anything? Why hadn’t he raised him to be a better person?

    “I’ll catch you in the Drift, Dad.” And then he was gone like he always was.


	17. Sugar, We're Goin' Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-10-15.

**_2025, January 4 – 20:56 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Raleigh Becket had left to the training room for the remainder of the afternoon. After doing system and circuitry check-ups in the Local Command Center, Greyson Darcy made her way toward the hospital to have a word with their on-site doctor, Joel Lincoln, a forty-something guy with a PhD and hair that much resembled a certain Matthew Morrison.

    Greyson was passing through the main corridor, wherein the carts were able to pass through to get to the hangar and repair bays. She caught sight of Mako Mori. The young trainee didn’t see James Lu and Alfred Loreano drive by. She couldn’t call out to her before the boys hit her in the side, pinning her to the wall.

    The boys backed up and nearly hit Greyson in turn as she rushed to Mako’s immediate aid. “Are you guys alright?” the lieutenant asked the three.

Mako hugged her arm, checking to see if it was severely injured. She was okay on that front, but the girl didn’t get away with anything else aside from a dangerous limp. Jim frowned. Alfie became guilty.

    “Ms. Mori, I am so, _so_ sorry!” Alfie apologized. He hopped off the cart and went to Mako’s other side opposite of Greyson. “I didn’t see you walking there.” The man was more of an overgrown child than anything else, and that’s without mentioning his Petrelli-styled hair. Though of firm build and generous stature, Alfie had a noticeable baby-face and was as clumsy as a cat with booties on its feet.

    Jim muttered sarcastically, “He can never see _anyone_ walking. Don’t take it personally.” There was a look of boredom on this worker’s face; almost as if crashing into and maiming other ‘Dome staffers happened on a daily basis, and if Alfie’s track record had proved anything, it was probably true.

Mako had winced, shifting her weight onto an uninjured leg. Greyson noticed the small movement and her eyes widened with sudden alarm. “Your leg! What if you fractured something? What if you can’t pilot Gipsy Danger? What are we going to _do_ if we need you guys? What if Raleigh—?”

    “Get your priorities straight, woman!” Mako exclaimed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

    “Gosh, Mako. _Chill_.”

    “I _am_ chill!” The young Japanese woman rolled her eyes, if only holding back a pained whine. “I’m fine. If anything gets too bad, at least we’ve got you.”

    Greyson gave her a mildly enthusiastic chuckle, sighing. “Here’s to hoping nothing gets too bad, then.”

    Jim and Alfie left with Mako then, driving in the direction of the Hong Kong Shatterdome’s Medical Bay section.

**_2025, January 4 – 21:10 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson’s feet led her to the military mess hall. Before she grabbed a tray, from her pocket came a musical device and a pair of ear buds. The chronic buzzing of people was drowned out by the natural rhythm and blues. Greyson pulled away from the counter and headed for the Striker Eureka crew’s regular table.

    The lieutenant was about to step off the platform and to the main floor when she spotted a head of blond hair. Raleigh. He appeared to have taken a shower after his training, ready for dinner. The guy wouldn’t have come out of his room if there was no reason. If given the choice, Greyson assumed Raleigh probably wouldn’t have.

    When he arrived, everyone stopped talking. People in the immediate area stopped what they were doing and just stared at him. All conversations died. They gawked in his direction before stealing very many noticeable glances towards Greyson. She noticed that Gipsy Danger’s crewmembers made an attempt to avoid eye contact with either of them, albeit quietly shunning Raleigh. Their eyes seemed to scream, _Are you going to sit with the left-over?_

Greyson’s stride to Raleigh should have answered the silent judgments.

    No one is really supposed to bring food trays outside of the mess hall, but it didn’t matter so long as they didn’t get lost. Besides, it wasn’t like the mess hall would be at much of a loss.

    Raleigh and Greyson both found a spot along the gantry and platform overlooking Gipsy Danger’s repair area. Marshal Stacker Pentecost was having her fixed up and given a look-over. They ate in a serene silence before Greyson spoke up. She muttered, “Rals, Mako feels bad about what happened.” It was a moment before she nudged her tray away.

    “So do I,” Raleigh replied. Motioning down to the techs, he continued: “They’re still trying to figure out what when wrong, but nothing did. She had the strongest machine-pilot handshakes I’ve ever seen.”

    Greyson hugged her calves, latching a hand over a wrist, watching the sparks that ricocheted off of Gipsy’s armor. “It looked like it with how everyone ran for their lives,” she joked, sporting a grin in his direction. The technicians’ voices traveled up to their position on the scaffolding. Greyson could hear her name mentioned once or twice.

    There was something in the air, something coming off of Raleigh, and Greyson wondered if he was just itching to talk. “Gipsy and Mako are pretty well-acquainted, if you were wondering. And it’s not at all weird, whatever you’ve been thinking about.”

    Raleigh looked at her in shock. “How—?”

    She huffed out a light laugh. “I know you, and I know her. I remember how Drift-hangovers affect people, and so I can tell whenever you’ve got things on your mind.”

    “You know what happened with Yancy… Sonny, I know you know how it feels.” Raleigh ducked his head, staring blankly at the fork he was shifting between his fingers. “It was just so quiet for so long.”

    Greyson reached over and placed a hand on Raleigh’s arm. He looked up with a solemn sorrow in his eyes. “I know… Rals, I know, but what happened that night wasn’t your fault, okay? It’s about time you finally forgive yourself.” She took a long intake of breath, readying herself to tell him about something she had never told another soul. “Look, I’d blamed myself for what happened to you guys for so long. I blamed myself—I _hated_ myself. Every day, I used to tell myself that I was to blame—that if I had paid enough attention to the screen after Knifehead went down, Yancy would still be alive, and you’d be fine.” Greyson inhaled. “We’d… have been fine. But, I got over that because I didn’t have time to dwell on what could have been.”

    Raleigh leaned back on his palms. “We lived in each other’s heads for so long, the hardest part to deal with was the silence.”

    “Do you want to know how _I_ felt when you left?” Greyson countered acting as if she already heard his rant once before—and, in truth, she had. “Raleigh, I was _alone_. Yancy was gone, and then you defected from the Defense Corps without so much as a good-bye, and… It was like half of me died, but when you came back—”

    “—It was like feeling the sun on your skin for the first time.” Raleigh’s eyes roved over her before turning to watch the crane lift a piece of Gispy Danger’s hull up. A bunch of the tech guys climbed in, and, within the next few moments, the inside lit up with the light of blowtorches. There was a question that lingered in the air between them, and they both knew the answer: It had indeed been a long while since Raleigh had last seen their Jaeger’s heart.

    They sat as the techs lifted her old nuclear vortex from its housing. Those reactors had powered the first three generations of the mechs. Those same had even killed Rangers over time. Greyson felt a sudden amount of pride upon seeing the new shielding that Mako had wanted to be added. It was only one of many modifications she had suggested of incorporating into the old ‘bot, but they both greed that keeping the Mark III as original as possible was the way to go. Well, that was except for perhaps a few more new gadgets here or there.

    “Did you name her after me subconsciously, or what?” Greyson asked Raleigh out of the blue.

    “What do you mean?” he questioned.

    “Shared initials are what I mean,” she elaborated. “So: subconsciously or not?”

    Raleigh turned slightly pink. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I mean, you’d had some part in designing her, and your uncle got the ball rolling. I… I dunno.”

    “Mako’s father was a sword maker, you know,” Greyson started. “She told me once that he’d always say, when a warrior names his weapon, they share a bond.”

    “Makes sense,” Raleigh said, smiling a bit. He still evaded giving Greyson a straightforward answer to the question. “How’s Jasper, by the way?”

    “Eh,” she shrugged. “He’s hanging in there. Haven’t seen him in a while, but I really do miss him. You know how I favored him over my dad in a lot of ways, given the… circumstances.”

    Neither of them needed to elaborate on the ‘why’. Then, Raleigh huffed out a quiet chuckle.

    “What is it?” Greyson inquired.

    “Nothing.”

    “C’mon, Rals. What is it?”

    “Well… When I was Drifting with Mako, I heard a song…” It was as if he didn’t know exactly how to continue his question.

    Greyson held back a grin, answering with, “Shibuya pop. She’s been obsessed with for forever. Mako made me put it on my phone just in case she’d forget hers.”

    They shared a laugh.

    “…do you remember what happened to me and Yance in the second grade?” Raleigh asked Greyson.

    “You mean, when Fink Herbert beat the ever-living snot out of you guys?” Greyson chortled. They had another round of roaring laughter. “Yeah, I remember. You and him had fractured your ribs, nasty bruises, cut lips—”

    “—and Yancy was the only pirate boy in his fifth grade class.”

    Again, they laughed. Soon they sobered up. No one had mentioned Yancy so much in one day without making Greyson cry. Hardly any person had spoken of the late Becket following the incident. When news of Raleigh’s arrival erupted in the halls, that was all anyone could hear: “Yancy’s brother—”, “Raleigh and Yancy and Gipsy Danger—”, “Yancy Becket’s dead.”

    Raleigh’s voice had brought her back to reality. “Do you know why Fink beat us out of our socks?”

    Greyson turned to him. “No. Why?”

    “We were defending your mom. And you.”

    “Why?” she asked once more, interest now piqued.

    “He talked bad about you. It was the week your mom left. You weren’t yourself, and the kids noticed. Herbert talked behind your back to anyone who would listen,” Raleigh let out. “I told him that ‘just because you have a weenie, doesn’t mean you gotta act like one!’ Yancy actually did call him a dick after saying he ‘didn’t know anything’. And we got socked in the—well—everything.”

    “Oh, man,” Greyson sighed. “And I was laughing at you two idiots for a month. I’m sorry.”

    “I’m sorry that you were mocked for not having a mom.”

    “And I’m sorry that yours died, and that your dad left, too.”

    “I’m sorry that Yancy died.”

    “I’m sorry about Chuck.”

    “I’m sorry that I l—” Raleigh didn’t finish whatever he began saying. He looked mad for almost saying it. “It’s getting late,” he said finally.

    “Since when have _you_ cared about it being _late_?” Greyson mocked, raising a brow.

    Raleigh only smirked, holding his hand out for his friend.


	18. Out of the Woods

**_2025, January 5 – 18:07 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“What are you doing?” Raleigh Becket had walked into the Kwoon in hopes of getting in a few spars with Greyson Darcy. Entering the place was an easier feat than trying to get the girl to get up from the mat.

    She was sprawled across the training mat, fingers laced behind her head in a form of a pillow. “Resting,” was what Greyson answered. Her face scrunched when the overhead lights appeared to dim. Upon peeking open her eyes, Greyson blinked up at Raleigh’s expectant face. “Hi.”

    “Twenty says you can’t beat me on the hanbo,” Raleigh challenged, extending his hand to assist his friend to her feet.

    Greyson took it gratefully, already sporting a look of amusement. “Make it fifty and you’re on.” After walking off to shrug out of Chuck Hansen’s jacket (the leather one with the ten Kaiju head decals on the back; that of which she may or may not have borrowed from its owner), she kicked off her shoes and picked up a hanbo.

    “I’m telling you the same thing I did Mako,” Raleigh said quietly, maneuvering the long stick in his grasp. “The focus here is Compatibility.”

    “You might be able to talk the talk, and walk the walk, Baby Becket, but can you dance the tango?” Greyson placed her cellular on the pile of her belongings, adjusting the music volume to its maximum. A familiar set of bars weaved into the air, and the nostalgia of late-nights and mediocre school dances came rushing back to her.

    _Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell / It was love from above that could save me from hell_

    Raleigh and Greyson passed each other on the mat, almost sizing each other up. The latter bowed to the former when she turned around, albeit mockingly. Standing up straight, she warned, repeating his words from before: “I’m not going to dial-down my moves.”

    The music wafted throughout the room, and in her head Greyson sang along with it. _She had fire in her soul, it was easy to see / How the devil himself could be pulled out of me_

    Raleigh’s brow arched before he nodded. They both swung the hanbos in their grips, advancing slightly to the other. He made the first move, though she had anticipated it. After one block, Greyson came face-to-face with the stick. _Déjà vu._

    “One, zero.”

_There were drums in the air as she started to dance / Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands_

    Greyson’s teeth clenched when her jaw set, and she angled a swing to Raleigh’s hip. As she had expected, he deflected it. With the other end of the hanbo, she made a confirmed hit. There was a bittersweet grin that pulled at her lips. “One, one,” Greyson counted. “You better keep your A-Game.”

    Raleigh huffed. _Focus_ : it was the only word he said to her then. There was a look he gave her that she couldn’t quite decipher.

_Like a piece of the puzzle that falls into place / You could tell how we felt from the looks on our faces_

    They both took a few strokes of the arm, circling each other, striking; their movements were swift, fluid thoughts. Greyson could feel it in the air; their actions were mirroring each other’s. Becket had gotten ahead of her with a 2-1. She immediately retaliated by swiping at his feet, bringing him down on one knee.

    When Greyson swung at his head, she locked her muscles, keeping the hanbo mere centimeters from making contact. “Two, two.”

_We were spinning in circles, with the moon in our eyes / The room left them moving between you and I_

    “Don’t get cocky”; the way that Raleigh said it reminded Greyson of Yancy. She nearly lost her focus. He got to his feet and shuffled around for a few moments before coming at her. She had blocked his attempts for a full-frontal hit. Out of nowhere, he ducked under Greyson’s arm, moving behind her in a heartbeat.

    It was him that Greyson felt before the hanbo. His arms were around her, holding the wooden stick to her front. The heat that rose to her cheeks was the result of his hot breath that touched the skin at her neck. “Three, two,” he muttered.

    Even though he had gotten one more than she, Greyson didn’t want him to have bragging rights; it just wasn’t in her being. Using the hanbo’s positioning under her grip, Greyson knocked Raleigh’s out of his. She pivoted around, blowing his knees out from under him. Raleigh fell onto the mat with a satisfying sound.

_We forgot where we were and we lost track of time / And we sang to the wind as we danced through the night_

    “Sonny,” Raleigh groaned. “ _Not_ fair.”

    “It’s not like I said I wouldn’t go easy on you, or anything,” Greyson pointed out, holding out a hand for him. “You’ve always said: Never lose focus; never let your guard down.”

    “You _never_ stop talking,” he sassed, taking her hand and hauling himself to his feet. Brushing off his shoulders, Raleigh gave the woman a side-ways glance. “I gotta say, I think we still got it.”

    Greyson snorted in jest, pretending to flick off some non-existent dust from her shirt. “And I must say, I don’t think we ever lost it.”

**_2025, January 6 – 05:12 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson couldn’t remember the last time she had thrown up; more specifically, she wasn’t able to recall even when her retching was ever so bad. She had woken up that morning and bolted straight to the in-room lavatory. There she was, on her knees and almost hugging the toilet bowl. What dinner she had the night before had been long gone. Greyson was miserable, post-acidic episode. What had she _eaten_ last night? Must have been the meatloaf.

    Dr. Joel Lincoln, though he preferred to be called “Link”, was considerate when it came to seeing Greyson at such short notice. She was due for her regular check-ups anyway when it came to her vitamins and pills.

    “Have you been eating anything irregular lately?” Link had asked her.

    Greyson detested that hospital room, more than a lot of things, but sitting on that cot gave her chills. “No,” she answered him. “Nothing aside from the hall grub.”

    There was a certain expression that was permanently fixed on the good doctor’s face. Greyson caught it once he looked at her from his board. “Is this the first time you’ve been experiencing morning sickness?”

    “I—” Greyson shook her head, nearly spluttering over her own words. “Y-yeah, it’s the first. But look, Link, if you think it’s because of—”

    “Well, have you been doing it?” Link inquired, raising a brow in question.

    Greyson turned red. “I mean, _yeah_ , but it’s not like we’ve never…” She trailed off, eyes widening in an attempt to get her point through to the doctor.

    Link gave Greyson a look of vague skepticism, but didn’t counter her anymore on the subject. “This could also just be a bad case of a stomach bug going around, but if it continues, come back to me and we’ll get everything sorted through.”

**_2025, January 6 – 13:55 – Hong Kong, China_ **

News of the kaiju breaking through the Wall in Australia still hadn’t ceased. Even after nearly a week, the world still buzzed with fear, terror, anger. However, the bay workers off to the south of Hong Kong weren’t particularly in the mood. Many more were only worried about their own well-being.

    It was not a question of morale; nor was it asking much from the world, because people just began to detest the idea of a deemed “Wall of Life” that any kaiju could mow through. It was, however, true that those in China had known before—even when the Plan was still in the works. The situation was like being forced between a rock and a hard place: In this case, the hard place was the Kaiju War and the rock was merely a pebble; the small, yet annoying prick that symbolized the idiocy, daftness, and arrogance that oozed from the ears and nostrils of the United Nations.

    Of course, that was only one side of the argument Donald Ressler always favored to discuss.

    See, there was some particularly lengthy story about the guy, from a few years back (that of which included why he responded to an alias from that _Blacklist_ show), but he didn’t quite like talking about it.

    Donny wasn’t sure where his hatred of politics and things of the common like came from. He figured it must have been something from a previous life, if anyone actually believed in those kinds of things. In that prior life, he must have been some sort of ninja, too, Donny assumed; the reasoning behind that is he didn’t remember knowing tae kwon do, or being any good at the arts his friend, Roland Kincaid, ever taught at his dojo.

    The Kincaids had taken him into their impressively large Hong Kong flat when he needed it most, having lived inside a local hospital for nearly a year after an accident he couldn’t remember. Rory even went as far as lending a hand in finding Donny a job. It also wasn’t long thereafter when he fell in love with Rory’s younger sister, Felicity—Flick, as she preferred—who initially volunteered at said hospital.

    Long story short, his life was going pretty well since the old days of struggle.

    Mondays weren’t so bad. They each alternated cooking breakfasts between the three of them, and today was Flick’s turn. She always made the best congee and crullers (plus: she made him French toast—and Donny _loved_ his French toast).

    Their loft was spacey—enough for three, at the least. Flick had a room to her own whereas he and Rory shared the master. Rory had chosen to take the queen-sized bed by the window because he liked to “rise with the sun” or whatever, but Donny didn’t mind in the least.

    He had sat in bed that one Monday, propping himself up by the palms of his hands and trying to wake himself up. With one hand, Donny began rubbing the sleep from his eyes, letting go of a loud yawn. Hopping to his feet, the strawberry blond man searched around the room for a shirt to wear. He found one of his thinner, long-sleeved shirts; the black-and-grey stripes. The man groggily threw on the piece of clothing, and then shuffled his way out of the room, following the faint, though delicious, smell of food.

    “Morning,” he managed to get out, albeit majorly groggily. Donny dragged his feet across the hall’s carpeted flooring and to the kitchen and dining area’s furnished wood floors. His arms came around Flick’s waist, resting on her hips, while he placed his chin on her shoulder. Donny kissed her rambunctiously curly blond hair.

    Because their flat was open-spaced, Rory could be seen from their living room, sprawled across the couch with a bowl in his lap filled with something Donny couldn’t quite recognize. He called out, “It’s almost two in the afternoon, Galileo. And the morning didn’t miss you.”

    “Well, I missed _you_ , Copernicus,” Donny retorted, shouting in Rory’s general direction. He thanked Flick for his brunch and plopped himself at the handsomely sized dining table.

    “Noses down, Science Nerds.” Flick pulled out a chair singlehandedly and sat down in it as well, shaking her head at the exchange between her two boys. After a moment: “You know, I love having Mondays to ourselves,” Flick commented, cupping the warm mug in between her hands. The blonde pressed it to her lips, taking a careful sip. “It makes me not hate Mondays.”

    “Yeah,” Rory guffawed, “but it makes us hate Tuesdays.”

    “Touché,” Flick replied, nodding her head to her brother.

    Donny hummed in agreement, still chewing. “I nether wiked Thoosdays anyway.”

    The siblings laughed, and Rory barked out, “What was that, Elmer Fudd?”

**_2025, January 7 – 23:00 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

After visiting the K-Science division and finding Newt Geiszler making some sort of weird contraption she didn’t bother asking about, Greyson Darcy had decided to finish helping out the technicians in the Local Command Center while the crews reengineered the consoles. No matter where in the place they were, all the staffers were aware that time was of the essence, and that the quicker the LOCCENT was up and running again, the better.

    Tendo Choi had left the area to go grab some grub on his chosen break-time while the techs and Greyson continued working. The woman was seated at the front, looking over the wiring and double-checking their placements; Greyson had tried multitasking, bringing her paperwork along. In one hand were files and in the other was her phone. Some of the crewmembers had been handing in newspapers and articles that pertained to things for and against the Defense Corps and The Wall Plan. To add in more paperwork and updating dossiers that the Marshal had her look over, it kept the woman busier than usual.

    Greyson had stowed a copy of the memo that dear Mr. Choi wrote about Raleigh Becket’s arrival along with the facility status reports, K-Science reports, J-Tech reports—you name it, she’s seen it at one point or another. That desk, currently, was covered with Manila file folders and stacks upon stacks of murdered forest.

    Tendo had walked in with yet another folder tucked under his arm, two mugs of hot coffee, and a giant bagel in his teeth He fired up the consoles in order to go over diagnostics.

    She paid him no mind because it was a tick off protocol. What took attention from her work was the Breach alarm. What made her panic was the fact that Tendo was panicking. “…Ten? What’s wrong?” Greyson asked him slowly.

    “It’s—it’s just misinterpreting the feed. That’s all,” Tendo stuttered out, staring at the data screens and remote sensors. “There’s probably something wrong with the—”

    Greyson watched as he messed with the broad-spectrum visual. Tendo ignored the usual spectacle of the Breach. He liked non-visuals because he actually understood the numbers, and the sights didn’t have a chance to distract him. But he didn’t trust even the instruments, which is why Tendo switched, for once, to the visuals.

    The number said there was a presence of two kaiju from the Breach, and that they were headed past the Marianas Trench. Visuals confirmed it.

    Greyson blinked, in a silenced awe. “Are those—?”

    Tendo sighed as deep as the trench itself. “Gottlieb was right.” In one swift motion, he called the Marshal via video chat.

    “… _Decay since last month: six percent_.”

    She was stood behind Tendo as the feed started. Brows knitted together. They only caught the last snippet of whatever the AI was telling the Marshal of his preexisting condition. Stacker Pentecost was, it seemed, undergoing a Phys-Eval, being as he had on no shirt. From the camera feed, anyone would be able to see the scars that splayed across his skin. Scars that resembled the ones Raleigh acquired from Gipsy Danger in the AK-20 attack were similar to Pentecost’s scars from Coyote Tango, JP-16.

    Greyson knew firsthand that any Jaegers from the first mark to the third were highly radioactively toxic. Anyone that had piloted them needed to take anti-radiation medication. Many were still on them to that day.

    Marshal Stacker Pentecost never said anything to anyone, but he was dying from the inside out. People who figured it out haven’t announced it, either; wasn’t their place to question.

    “Mr. Choi?” Pentecost started.

    “Movement in the Breach, sir,” sighed Tendo. “Earlier than we thought.”

    “How strong is the signature?”

    Greyson interrupted the exchange, answering in place of the Tech Chief Officer. “Hate to break it to you, Stacks, but there are two giant monsters headin’ straight for us.”

    A moment passed before: “Sound the alarm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-10-15.


	19. This is Gospel

**_2025, January 8 – 04:04 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

By the time both Herc and Chuck Hansen and Hermann Gottlieb walked into the LOCCENT behind Pentecost, everyone could see that the place was barely getting itself under control. Half of the machines and instruments were still undergoing power-ups. People were everywhere. The kaiju threat wasn’t loosening anybody up, and the screens that depicted a map of the Pacific Rim, which scanned the Breach and the two signals, weren’t helping.

    Raleigh and Mako, who now donned an ankle brace and leaned on a crutch sadly, were standing off to the side like they were the outcast-teens at their prom who were waiting for someone to ask them to dance.

_Man, do I remember mine…_

    Greyson fired up more instruments and the main console. She needed to see what she could, and Tendo needed the closure of knowing. Give-and-take.

    Tendo called out to him the moment he laid eyes on the Marshal. “Marshal. Breach was exposed at twenty-three hundred. We have two signatures.”

    Protocol. Completely unnecessary in the current case, but Marshal Pentecost liked to run things in a certain way, and Tendo never liked to see the commanding officer mad.

    “I love being right,” Hermann said in delight.

    Greyson took a second to throw a look at him. “Shut up, Herms.”

    “Told you never to call me that!”

    The Marshal shot a look at her for obvious reasons. At least she wasn’t Tendo; he had always wanted to give that scientist Brit a proper smack in the head.

    While the tech chief officer explained to the Marshal about the Category IVs, the lieutenant brought up visuals of the two kaiju’s appropriate likeness. One was “round and blocky in profile,” while the smaller one, as Tendo described earlier, was “all jagged angles and claws.” “Codenames: Otachi and Leatherback. They’ll reach Hong Kong within the hour.”

    Marshal Pentecost immediately fired off a bunch of orders and questions, all with the precision of a long-time leader. All Jaeger Ranger crews were in the room, watching it all unfold. Stacker’s authority oozed out of him.

    Greyson noticed someone moving behind her, and then she felt the heat radiating off of Chuck’s body. When he squeezed her shoulder, she reached over and held his hand. The lieutenant looked up at the Ranger comfortingly, even if he was the one trying to do the comforting.

    Even after Hu suggested (or, at least, Greyson thought it was Hu that spoke up. The Wei triplets are the most identical siblings she had ever seen, and that surely said something) on going out to the bay to take care of their two new friends, Chuck and Greyson never broke contact. “…We are going out there. No matter what.”

    “So are we,” Sasha inclined, and then proceeded to gesture towards Raleigh and Mako in turn before adding, “But not with them.”

    “Well said, Red sister,” Chuck snorted.

    “Charlie…” Greyson warned. “Play nice.”

   A man gave them a glance from the corner of his eye, and under his breath, Raleigh muttered in astonishment, “You are so whipped.”

    Greyson huffed in emphasis, “Raleigh—”

    “Sir,” Herman started, ending the evident verbal fight before it even began. “You have to hold off. My parabola was right. We may lose a city, but we must preserve the Jaegers for the mission. We need to hold ground.”

    Herc stood his own ground, countering the scientist’s argument. “Hey. It’s a city of ten million people against _numbers on your chalkboard_.”

    “Okay, hold it,” Greyson interjected, raising a hand up to signal a halt. “There’s a problem, and we’ll fix it.” Everyone looked at the shortest person in the room. Greyson may seem boisterous, but she honestly hardly spoke in such sort of things. “Before the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, there was a problem, and we solved it. We’ll solve this one, too.

    “Herms…” – The person in question glared at her – “you’re right about the Jaegers; we’ll need them all for Operation Pitfall. Having the bare minimum won’t cut it—I mean, we had lost eight mechs last year alone and only taken out fourteen KJs.” Greyson’s attention shifted from Hermann to Herc. “On the other hand, Herc, you’re right, too. We can’t all just prepare for the op and stand off to the side, watching while monsters terrorize, kill, and decimate all of Hong Kong. Though the numbers—”

    “My numbers are correct,” the former man stiffly huffed. “A city of ten million or the world? We cannot save everyone. If we don’t have the Jaegers to deliver the bomb, protecting one city will not matter.”

    There was nothing but silence. One glanced at two others who were staring directly at the Marshal. All four of them appeared to recall a similar conversation, albeit on a definitely smaller scale, five years prior back in Kodiak Island, Alaska. Greyson was pretty damn sure that Raleigh and Pentecost remembered; she would’ve bet on it.

    What was the name of that old boat? She knew it had ‘-chuck’ in its name because she had told Chuck that story before.

    Because the crew members of that boat came to the Alaskan Shatterdome to give their thanks to the Rangers that weren’t there anymore.

    Because the boat’s crew stayed for Yancy’s memorial.

    “You can’t save everyone,” Raleigh egged. “Right?”

    Marshal Pentecost didn’t answer. Greyson could sense and see the weariness in him. He was… not well, worse now than before. Tendo prompted the Marshal with an option to which he took his sweet time answering. However, when he finally did speak, Pentecost looked at the seven Jaeger pilots who weren’t part of the Becket-Mori duo. “Crimson Typhoon, Cherno Alpha, frontline the harbor. Stay on the Miracle Mile.”

    To the Hansens, he added, “Striker Eureka, stay in the back and guard the coastline. We cannot lose you, so only engage as a final option.”

    Hercules, like the veteran he was, responded with a firm: “Yes, sir.”

    Pentecost turned to the others, ordering, “You two stay put.” Upon laying eyes on Greyson: “Lieutenant Darcy, I want you to keep an Eagle Eye out there for your team. I expect nothing less.”

    Greyson had kept her hands firmly over the keys on the keyboard and her eyes glued to the console’s screens. “History won’t repeat itself, Stacks.” Hearing a scoff, she spun in her seat to give him a less than sarcastic salute. Greyson held back a laugh due to the acute annoyance in the Marshal’s expression; he absolutely loathed the use of his nickname in public.

    Solemnly, Greyson said instead, “You have my word, sir.”

    In no time at all, Chuck had stolen a kiss from her before he and his father left the LOCCENT. No after that, since the Weis and Kaidonovskys had also walked, Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon were being prepped. The two mechs were already at the end of Scramble Alley by the time Striker Eureka got off her conveyor belt from the hangar.

    Greyson ignored the usual droning of Tendo’s voice over the comms. He made sure to keep protocol, made sure everyone was on the same page. It was done by the book, the same way it was had always been done for the past decade.

    Like two people who had spent way too much time together, Tendo and Greyson both rhythmically and swiftly moved from each other’s spots. (She wouldn’t be surprised if they were found to be even Compatible.) They switched off every few minutes to make sure certain things were running smoothly as they come, to watch the scanners; staring at the clock; staring at the screens; drinking more and more coffee.

    It wasn’t long thereafter that Otachi and Leatherback came within the premises of the Miracle Mile.

    “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

    “We all do, G.”

    Greyson huffed at Tendo’s bluntness, shaking her head slightly. “No. I have a _bad_ feeling.” She didn’t bother to look at him again. Her eyes scanned the screens and they showed levels of the three Jaegers crews; Drifting was initiated. “Connection strong and holding,” she muttered distantly.

    “ _LOCCENT, near positions and awaiting orders_ ,” Herc told the ‘Dome center from the cockpit of Striker Eureka.

    They watched the feed coming in from Striker’s ConnPod. Both Hansens were so focused, so steady. No one would believe how dysfunctional their two-person family was outside of the Drift.

    Marshal Pentecost held the mech at bay. Everyone waited and monitored until Crimson and Cherno got to their designated positions. After a few heartbeats, Sasha spoke up through the comms’ speakers. “ _Reaching target zone. Disengaging transport_.”

    As the Jaegers were released from their fastenings to the Jumphawks, they landed down a mere second apart. Waves of the sea settled after a few moments, which then caused the crew to turn on their search lights.

    Tendo was main dispatcher; took care of all the particularly tedious, semi-difficult procedures. Greyson was supervisions—though, that was only one thing that was also a smidge off of the Marshal’s job dossier.

    Everyone was doing their job the way there were supposed to be doing them: Making calls. Making sure everything was working to their fullest potential. Making sure that nobody would end up dead.

    Greyson stood up for a second—a mere second. In that second, Tendo called out to the frontlines, advising them to turn on their search lights and prepare for the inevitable battle.

    It took two minutes. Two _damn_ minutes.

    She froze when Crimson Typhoon’s signal died. One, two, three—out like a light. Gone, all three of them. Hu, Cheung, and Jin. Otachi had torn open Typhoon’s torso, held her in place, and crushed the cockpit. The entire scene unfolded before their eyes. The Wei-Tang triplets were assumedly crushed in their own rigging. The kaiju ripped her head off the plant and hurled it across Hong Kong Bay.

    One doesn’t get attached. One should _never_ get attached. Before, when there were dozens among dozens of Rangers and Jaegers, it was easy to forget about them all. There were four of the Rangers left; four crews. They were an endangered species.

    Whoever or whatever that was making the monsters had been creating them with more stamina, more speed, more power… The K-Science reports were imprinted into Greyson’s head, on the insides of her eyelids. Silicon copies of the last. Adapting.

    Humanity was royally screwed.

    A heavy tension blanketed the LOCCENT when Typhoon’s head hit the water: the ConnPod feed flickered more before disappearing completely from the monitors.

    “Sonny.” She didn’t respond to the call of her name. “Sonny—hey, Grey, c’mon.” Raleigh pulled Greyson by her elbow, drawing her attention to him in that moment.

    Her eyes scanned over his, reading and assessing the expression he donned. Whether it was for her or the current situation, Greyson couldn’t be sure.

    The lieutenant never answered his silent question.

    Greyson managed to pull herself together after a few lengthy breaths, just enough to sit tall in that damned chair and pull the damned headset back on. In a hoarse voice, she muttered, “Crimson Typhoon… is down.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Marshal Pentecost nod.

    It was protocol. That damned protocol. Greyson never figured that she would ever really question it until now. She guessed it was because they had too much to lose.

    She never wanted to admit it; probably wanted to believe something could be done. But the Wei-Tang triplets were long gone from where she stood—or, sat.

    Through her comms, Greyson heard Herc over from Striker. “ _LOCCENT, Typhoon and Alpha are in trouble. We’re moving in._ ”

    “Ten-four, Striker. You are good to advance your twenty—”

    The Marshal cut her off. “You are to hold your ground,” he ordered. “Do not engage. Hold your position!”

    Greyson gripped the underside of the desk. “Sir, with all due respect, Cherno needs back-up, sir.” The views from the belly cameras on the Jumphawks reinforced her statement. Feed from the Jaeger’s ConnPod did the same.

    Once the Russians pushed Otachi off, Leatherback would come out of nowhere. The Kaidonovskys were sitting ducks, and Crimson was half underwater—what was left of her. It may prove to be only a miracle that any of them would survive.

    Marshal Pentecost asked for a recovering team to scan the seas for any survivors. There was a breach in Typhoon’s hull that the boys could potentially get out from, given the circumstances. Plus, all Rangers knew how to swim. It was a long-shot, but it was a shot worth taking.

    The Russians weren’t doing so hot; both kaiju were on top of them; their systems were all messed up. Cherno’s turbines had gone dark. The pilots were driven under the water because of the weight atop them. Even with the combined hands of both Greyson and Tendo, there was no way to disable the reactor.

    It was one disaster after another. There was a reason the disasters had a silver lining: it proved that the world was about to end.

    Greyson and Pentecost shared a look, and she said, “Striker Eureka, you are cleared for back-up combat. Advance your twenty.”

    “ _Very much obliged_ ,” Chuck replied before turning off the comms. Soon enough, Striker Eureka stepped forward, and there was a new sense of hope in all of them that Greyson felt radiating throughout the room.

    It was gone in a heartbeat. One.

    Otachi didn’t go down.

    Two. Striker Eureka retaliated.

    Three. Aleksis and Sasha went down fighting.

    The feeds went dark, but Greyson knew they would fight to the last breath. Drowning wasn’t a nice or ideal way to go, but she also knew that they would end up going down fighting. Struggling in the rigs, so close to escaping. _So close_ , if only—

    Four.

    The Jaeger exploded; there was no doubt about it. But did the husband and wife duo survive? They were warriors, and there had been too much Russian blood spilt atop the uses of the American brawn and British brain.

    Leatherback stopped fighting. Why’d it stop?

    “What the hell is that?!” Greyson inquired loudly, her head whipping forward to gawk—stare—at the Jumphawk feed. “Is that an electrical _organ_?”

    The shockwave spanned out of said organ. An energy wave hit Striker Eureka, shut her down, and went on its way for miles.

    “ _Damn_ …” It was the last thing we heard through the feed before the pulse reached the Shatterdome. It scrambled the signals. Anything. Everything.

    Greyson pulled her headset off when it started going haywire and spewing sound pollution. Then, everything just stopped. “It’s some kind of EMP,” Greyson started out. She didn’t bother to check the instruments; they were all dead anyway.

    “It jumbled the Jaeger’s electrical circuits!” Tendo finished.

    Hermann was just as shocked as Greyson.

    “They’re adapting,” she sighed. “This isn’t a defense mechanism. It’s a weapon!”

    “Striker?” Pentecost said.

    “Nothing, sir. The Mark Vs are all digital. It’s fried. In fact, all the Jaegers are digital.”

    Two Jaegers down, one held as a punching bag, and two kaiju still roaming the surface. It was time to panic. But there was still one answer to that assumption: “Not all of them.”

    Both Greyson and Raleigh had spoken at the same time, having reached the same conclusion. Hope had rekindled.

    Almost everyone knew what he was going to say, but more wished he’d say something miraculous. He wasn’t a left-over anymore; Raleigh was the last Ranger we had.

    And, in fact…

    “Gipsy Danger’s analog. Nuclear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 8-10-15.


	20. Paralyzer

**_2025, January 8 – 05:09 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Realization hit Greyson Darcy. Gipsy Danger was their only option, their only hope. Gipsy Danger was going to go out there, but she can’t function when—

    “Who’s going to pilot Gipsy with Becket?” Tendo Choi asked, turning his attention away from the console. They all looked at him. “Who’s going to pilot with Becket when Mori is…”

    Leave it to the tech chief to say something to break the atmosphere.

    The room just… stopped.

    Greyson caught the looks from everyone in the room. She blinked. Nearly fainted. The eyes of the other staffers in the immediate premises were trained on her figure seated to Tendo’s right. In that moment, the lieutenant figured out the reason.

    She was _their_ hope.

    “No,” Greyson said firmly. “I am not going to…” She finally sighed, scanning the faces of every person present. Her eyes landed on those of Stacker Pentecost, whose own were warm. “I can’t.” By now, the plea flitted past her lips like a whisper.

     There were two kaiju still up and live. Greyson knew that, damn well. Mako was crippled and Raleigh couldn’t go at it alone.

_Yancy wouldn’t hesitate. Get a grip on yourself._

    Marshal Pentecost was the first to cut through the silence. “Lieutenant, this is not a request.”

    Greyson steeled herself. Jaw locked, head straightened, shoulders went back. “Yes, sir.” Suffice to say, the crowd had thinned out and let her and Raleigh through.

    They ran.

    Putting on the DriveSuit was like trying to ride a bicycle after twenty years. Did it by memory, even after all the time had passed. It took less time; understandable. The back of Raleigh’s hand grazed Greyson’s when they put on their helmets. Reassurance.

    She was in darkness before the liquid circuitry neural pathways took. Even so, it was a breath of fresh air when she stepped foot inside of Gipsy Danger’s ConnPod. The Jaegers was theirs; she was theirs, but now she belonged to Mako, too.

    Or, maybe, it had always been the other way around.

    The Motion Rigs didn’t take an awful long time to connect to. Greyson was nervous, scared, excited, and angry, all at the same time. Her only advantage was being aware of the Drift, and knowing their Compatibility. She was still familiar with it; a reflex, a silence.

    But fighting a simulator of a kaiju is different than the real thing. Testing is just as different. One knows it hurts more because it’s the real thing. One may not come back because it’s the real thing — both Rangers knew that every time they got deployed out to face those sons of bitches — and if they did not come back alive, the same fate went to the rest of the world.

    The heads-up displays started up. Greyson’s eyes quickly scanned the command console.

    Tendo’s voice echoed within the ConnPod. “ _You okay, there, G?_ ”

    She hit the comm. “It’s like riding a bike, Mr. Choi. You never really forget.” After a moment’s hesitance: “ _Dànshì, n_ _ǐ_ _zh_ _ī_ _dào, w_ _ǒ_ _zài l_ _ǐ_ _miàn ji_ _ā_ _n jiào_.” _But you know, I’m screaming inside._

    The tech chief laughed a bit. “ _You’ll do fine.”_

    “You always do.” It was Raleigh. Greyson turned her head in his direction, but he seemed to be preoccupied with not looking at her.

    Soon, Tendo’s voice was heard again. “ _Engaging drop_.”

    The two of them positioned their hands over the release buttons that were on the console. Raleigh and Greyson both shared a glance.

    “There’re four of us now.” And Raleigh wasn’t kidding.

    Yancy never really did go away. Not for them. Not ever.

    Greyson’s lip pulled up with a quirk, echoing his words back at him: “Age before beauty.”

    Raleigh scoffed before shaking his head. He said nothing about it, however, but Greyson knew he remembered. “Release for drop” was what he uttered instead.

    It was like her heart had skipped a beat the moment Greyson heard the gantry let them go. Oh, she knew that feeling too well. Her stomach lurched and Greyson tensed up for a moment. _I regret everything_. It was like the feeling one gets when an airplane drops a few feet, or when someone jumps inside an elevator; when the blood is displaced midair… but multiplied by a few Gs.

    That was how it had always been.

    When they started to slow down and ease into their rightful place on the assembly, Greyson could feel her head spinning. No, no. They were _actually_ spinning; it wasn’t just in her imagination. She could hear the bolts and hooks, the automatic gears.

    “ _Prepare for neural handshake_.” Pentecost.

    Tendo’s countdown became distant. And for the first time in years, Greyson allowed her self to let go of everything, and welcomed the Drift Space like an old friend.

_Jazmine and Yancy and them, playing monkey-in-the-middle_

_C’mon. Stinky Fink, let the boys go. Haven’t you had enough to eat_

_Dominique Becket cursed in French while patching up the two battered and bruised and gone for hours — What the hell did you think you were doing, young men_

_Mommy doesn’t love me, she’s sorry_

_The tire screeches from the cab. Tears blurring vision I can’t_

_Raleigh breaking his arm when he fell from the backyard tree, what a noob Dad their car isn’t working_

_Yancy taping up her Avengers poster, Raleigh and their dads were in the hospital. The rug slipped he fell, she kissed him and he didn’t pull back until_

_No Tito Jasper he’s gone. He’s gone, what do I do, I’m so alone I can’t_

_Their windows were in front of each other’s. Her room was still empty the day they moved in; it was his memory, that’s how they met when they were four. A single wave from Greyson sent Raleigh smiling_

_They had to get back to Jaeger training_

    Memories overlapped and sounds were too loud and too quiet, and it was a push-and-pull, a give-and-take, a seesaw: _Margit, and Munich, twelve didn’t seem so long ago she kissed him_

_Dad you don’t have to go_

_You and Naomi! Stay away from me Yance, I don’t even wanna look at you right now_

_It was sloppy and hasty but his lips were soft arms snaked around and — Yancy, you’re eighteen — clothes littered the floor_

_Raleigh yelling at Yancy in the diner. Greyson followed them without thinking, she always did somehow, not think_

_Stacker made the arm move, tito. More money rolling in to fund the program, babysitting little cousin Robbie and mud-pies, passing notes during middle school when the teachers aren’t looking_

_Greyson, you got a letter from your mom_

_Mommy guess what Raleigh brought to show-and-tell today it was his daddy’s dog tags_

_There’s nothing I like that you can’t wait to get your hands on_

_Yancy’s blue eyes were cold, Greyson froze_

_Trickle of blood coming from his nose but the guy deserved it, you can’t just pick on people_

_Can’t pick every fight either_

_No, we’re not going to college, we’re joining the Rangers_

    Then came the last rush of the Drift and Gipsy Danger groaned, and the stray thoughts came to and the fringes caught up with the two of them: _Strike three you’re out! I told you I hate baseball Ice cream hockey the sweep of the light beam at Pemaquid the last time they visited Arizona and the dry heat I don’t like spiders_

_Are you sure you and Jazzy aren’t sisters_

_Mommy doesn’t love me_

_Dad you don’t have to go_

_He leaned in and she didn’t move. His lips were soft, almost like_

_Yancy… Yancy, don’t leave_

_We’ll go to Paris I promise. I’ll get down on one knee and I’ll_

_I love you_

    Hong Kong. 2025. _It’s Wednesday, right?_ Raleigh and Greyson were back in the present and she knew that he had questions. _No time for questions now, it’s time to save the world_

_Again_

    There was something in Raleigh’s thoughts. Something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Greyson could feel it — she felt everything he did, and in turn, so did Gipsy Danger.

_So it was really true_

    Oh, he was broken. Betrayed. But Greyson felt that he knew already.

_You and Yancy?_

_No time. Just move_

    Would anyone expect them to save Hong Kong by chitchatting their way around the kaiju? No?

    Out of habit, Greyson announced, “Neural handshake strong and holding.”

    In response to Tendo’s quiet _Sonny_ , _you took my line_ ; she huffed out, “Sorry, force of habit.”

    As Raleigh and Greyson continued on with the general protocol, the latter was finding it increasingly harder and harder to not linger around Raleigh’s head, filled with more of Yancy’s memories. Of course, all of their memories were so alike that, once upon a time, it had been hard to tell one from the other.

    Thoughts passed through their minds quickly; lengthy conversations came within seconds. Feelings were universal; emotions increased four-fold.

    Distantly, they heard Tendo’s voice from the comm speakers. “ _Sonny’s… waving. Her connection’s good, but they could still go out of alignment…_ ”

    A glob of images bombarded her mind, of two people, and one always gave her the Chris Evans-ish grin where the other always laughed like a certain Jensen Ackles. One smelt of fresh sea and motor oil; the other, pine and hard candy.

    Greyson mentally shook her head in order to keep her mind in-check, to not reel them in – _Can’t got out of alignment there are no do-overs only thing between the world’s annihilation – Sonny, don’t chase the R.A.B.I.T._ – “Right, sorry,” she muttered aloud, brushing off the quick moment of fluster. “Left hemisphere linked and ready.”

    It was in that moment where they both knew. They just knew it. Connections pulled at them, but Greyson was being pulled in two.

    Adrenaline and giddiness surged through her — through them both — and they each raised an arm to follow-through with the Handshake. Soon, Gipsy Danger was rolled down Scramble Alley. The Super Sikorskys lifted them out to the bay, where Leatherback seemed to be putting its weight on its hind, raising its arms up to smash Striker Eureka’s hull.

    “Choppers,” Greyson called out, “put your lights on Leatherback. Get that bastard’s attention.”

    It worked.

    When they were close enough, the aircrafts’ rigs opened, and Gipsy Danger fell into the surf waters. They were situated not one hundred meters from the kaiju and Jaeger.

    “Alright, Sonny,” Raleigh muttered. “Get ready, this is for real!”

    While both pilots pulled a stance, waiting to be charged, a single thought swept cleanly between them: _No shit, Sherlock_.

    Greyson steeled herself up. Their actions mirrored one another. They pivoted out of Leatherback’s way, and got a hold of the charge emitter on its back. Gipsy Danger ripped it off and threw it to Merlin knows where.

    With a roar, the monster came at them again, clamping its arms around the Jaeger’s torso, sweeping them from their feet. But not before they got in a few punches.

     They felt like they were spinning for eternity, and then… nothing.

    “Shit!”

    The force of their flight sent Gipsy Danger soaring for a good ways. The Jaeger went smack onto the crossover bridge, and into a shipyard full of containers. Reorienting themselves, Raleigh and Greyson crouched to stunt their landing and skidded to a halt. In their wake were demolished rows upon rows of cartons and vehicles.

    Leatherback waded after them, and then began to charge. The Sikorskys’ search lights made sure to illuminate their surroundings. Thanks to the heads-up displays, the pilots were capable of seeing.

    Greyson felt a fire burning in her. Adrenaline continued to pump through her veins. So many things ran through her mind and back around. Raleigh held on to a strength that he never had before.

    “Come on,” the blond yelled. “Let’s do this!”

    “Together,” they said in synchronization.

    The two of them pushed up at the same time. They moved together, matched each other’s movements. It wasn’t at all difficult when they functioned singularly.

    There was a leap, and Gipsy Danger’s fist connected with the kaiju’s face. Grabbed Leatherback and did it again. The surging fight pushed them past more shipping containers, which were thrown around like Lincoln Logs, without a care.

    “Elbow Rocket!” Raleigh called out for more the benefit of the LOCCENT than their own.

    The Jaeger AI obliged. “ _Elbow Rocket engaged_.”

    Greyson felt the full force of the mechanics. She felt it when they landed a good one on Leatherback’s bridge. It in turn rammed into small buildings and porting cranes, effectively knocking them down. The kaiju grabbed what he could and met Gipsy Danger with a crane to the side. Here she lost her balance, but instead, Gipsy fisted containers into both of her hands, enough to make each strike definitively effective.

    A right, a left. They bashed its head in from both sides.

    _Teach you to mess with my planet!_

    Leatherback caught itself. But they were still able to grab it from behind, under the arms, momentarily holding the kaiju. It fought, and fought hard, but neither pilot allowed for it to get a chance to wriggle loose.

    Raleigh shouted a word of encouragement. “Hold on, Greyson!”

    All they could see was darkness, the faint lights from the city beyond. What little light there was mainly came from the choppers.

    The storm wasn’t settling any time soon.

    Gipsy Danger tossed Leatherback away from her, taking a step back to brace. The kaiju surged forward, pushing the Jaeger back. Momentum threw the pilots back into the rigging, hard.

    Leatherback continued to surge forward, not letting up. Raleigh and Greyson loaded up the plasma cannon, emptying the clip into its side. The latter felt pressure on her back as Leatherback drove them through another highway bridge. Somewhere along the way, its entire arm broke off, dislodged from its socket. It started to slow down as they neared the end of the port, where it met the bay waters.

    When they finally stopped, Greyson felt as if they had hit something small with the heel of Gipsy Danger’s boot.

    Gipsy pushed off the kaiju, letting it fall dead onto its back. They stowed the cannon. Both of their hearts were beating a thousand miles an hour, which intensified between the two. There was bad, heavy panting, but breaths were slowly being caught.

    Raleigh’s train of thought cut off from the city of Hong Kong and back to the Leatherback. _Yancy_. It was enough to stop them in their tracks. _Not this time._ “Wait,” he panted. “I think this guy’s dead. But let’s check for a pulse.”

    Greyson could only nod. There was no need for words.

    In unison, the two of them shifted their torsos to turn. The rigs on their feet and backs prevented them from fully making a 180, but it helped signal Gipsy Danger to do it for them. Raleigh loaded the cannon. Emptied out four more rounds.

    The blasts tore into the fallen kaiju, and the hand-cannon glowed to the point of overheating. Leatherback — what was left of it, mind — was close to doing the same.

    Raleigh faced Greyson with a cheeky grin on his face. “No pulse.”

    Their eyes looked past the HUDs and to the outside, where a couple of helicopters were hovering over the stormy city of Hong Kong in survey of that other kaiju, Otachi. God knew what damage it had already caused.

    “One down, one to go.”

    “Shall we get that little shit a present?” Greyson asked in jest, motioning to the large, black oil tanker that was docked not too far from where they stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've cut the chapters in half (meaning: rather than 4K, they're each roughly 2K), so there's more chapters and quicker reading!
> 
> Updated 8-10-15.


	21. Ready, Aim, Fire

**_2025, January 8 – 05:57 – Hong Kong, China_ **

They dragged the tanker into the city. What a sight that must have been: A giant Jaeger with a little tug-boat, how original.

    With every step they took, Gipsy Danger caused over thousands in damage per city block, just by walking and hauling the boat along the street.

_It ain’t my money_

    Raleigh rolled his eyes at her.

    Eventually, Gipsy Danger’s presence caught Otachi’s attention. The little bugger was directly down the street; looked worse than the last one. His movements were—

    “Are you humming Metallica?” There was a hint of mockery in Raleigh’s voice.

    Greyson felt a blush rise into her cheeks. “Shut up. You were singing Skillet; you can’t judge.”

    He shrugged slightly. “Point well made.”

    The Jaeger AI spoke in response to their thoughts and adjustments: “ _Torque engaged_.” Raleigh and Greyson both pulled the tanker around, and the momentum flung it into Gipsy’s hands; they kept it there in a batter’s hold.

_Hey, batta’, batta’. Hey, batta’, batta’—_

_I hate baseball_

_—Swing!_

    Gipsy Danger hit Otachi, square in the face; once from the side, and the other. With a swipe downwards, she clocked it on the crown. Out of nowhere, its scorpion-like tail took hold of the big rig, and threw it.

    To their surprise, the tanker bounced once before getting lodged between two nearby buildings.

    When they looked back, Otachi’s tail barreled into them. Gipsy Danger went soaring and landed flat on her back. By the time she got to her feet, the kaiju had made it down twelve blocks, out of sight.

    Gipsy got to where it turned, but all they saw was the crumbling parts of a commercial building. Greyson grew irritated at their interior instruments. “I can’t pinpoint it,” she announced, though Raleigh already knew that. “It’s moving quickly. Keep your eyes peeled.”

     “Choppers, do you have a visual?” called Raleigh. “Over.”

    Raleigh and Greyson stopped for a second. Just a second. From their blind-spot, Otachi emerged through a glass building. It threw them into the one adjacent, blowing more debris every which way. They didn’t let it falter them. Gipsy Danger met its every offense with counter-punches, hooks, jabs, uppercuts.

    While they fought, in the back of Greyson’s mind, a thought lingered. The kaiju were pretty much Dino 2.0. Otachi, frankly, reminded her of a stegosaurus. Also the one from Manila, 2019.

 _Jesus Christ, Sonny, focus_ , she chastised herself.

    Gipsy Danger pulled a failed swing, which it dodged. The whole of their right arm disappeared within the building, shattering glass and breaking down office cubicles. Otachi shoved them into another building, and then through it.

    Going head-first into three separate buildings isn’t a walk in the park. When it let off on them, they rolled on Gipsy Danger’s shoulder and got her to her feet. The kaiju spit out a jet stream of Kaiju Blue. Jumping to the side, they avoided the vile acid.

    They looked back and saw the affected areas of the building behind them start to dinstegrate before their eyes.

    _That could’ve been us_

    Raleigh immediately thought of pulling the venom sac from Otachi.

    To herself, Greyson muttered, “Spit, no good. Thing go bye-bye. Best to avoid.” She followed Raleigh’s lead, but Otachi’s barbed tail wrapped around to their left side, trying still to grab Gipsy.

    “I’ll hold it!” Raleigh said with a grunt. “Vent the coolant on the left flank!”

    In a millisecond after his instructions, Greyson broke her previous position and reached for the control panel. Raleigh kept Otachi’s head and tail at arm’s length. She released the carbon dioxide, and the kaiju’s tail soon froze solid, which allowed them to break through.

    Greyson moved, and Raleigh moved with her, and Gipsy grabbed tight on one of its horns in order to keep it still. It allowed them to rip out the sac, which in turn only angered it.

    Otachi knocked down Gipsy and stood on her chest. Its talons dug into her sides, and both pilots felt every little thing breaking inside Gipsy’s interior with harshly sharp pains. The feeling was unlike something either had ever experienced. As if they were lying down on an uneven nail bed.

    A cloud of dust disturbed their vision outside of the ConnPod. When they were pulled up, they saw why. The ghastly monster had _wings_. With every flap of said wings, Gipsy Danger was jerked violently upwards. Greyson felt it throughout her body and knew Raleigh did as well.

    There was a rush of blood to their abdomen area, and the warmth made the hairs on their arms stand on end. Greyson’s legs suddenly felt heavy, as if a shot of morphine had gone through her system.

    But the pain was the worst part. Otachi’s act of basking them against buildings as it flew higher was almost nothing. In fact, Greyson was convinced the pain was caused by the damages to Gipsy’s exterior until she remembered.

     It had only been two days since her last check-up with Link. _No — it was just a stomach virus._

     “Sonny!” Raleigh’s cries convinced her that her worst fear was coming true. “Sonny, what the hell’s wrong?! Talk to me!”

    Greyson shoved the thought away before it was even fully formed, before he could focus and realize.

    There was no rain. No nothing. A silence. It took a few moments for it to sink into either of them, that they were actually leaving Earth’s atmosphere. The Jaeger AI supported their worries.

    Gipsy Danger was jerked upright once more, and a cold shiver rolled down their spine.

    “Temperature’s dropping. We’re losing oxygen!” Raleigh’s voice brought her back to reality. She stared at the control monitors; he continued. “Both plasma cannons are shot. We’re out of options, Sonny.”

    The same fire burned through her again. There was a quick flash of a memory between them — _molten metals, chain sword_ — and Greyson growled out, “No, there’s still something left!” The moment those words left her lips, Raleigh took another few seconds for it to sink in.

    He was curious, confused, relieved, all at the same time. But Raleigh didn’t question her.

    When the chain sword was deployed, it whipped about for the amount of them they shifted an arm. It set itself the moment they were in position.

    Now, it was Raleigh’s turn to follow _her_ lead.

    Greyson felt his eyes train on her every move, vowing to keep precise, mimicking hers. The sword ripped through flash under Otachi’s wing. With one giant swipe, the kaiju came cleanly in two.

    That was when Gipsy Danger went into free-fall. The rigs were jerking them around because the Jaeger continued to tumble and roll mid-fall. Dropping felt the worst. Greyson’s back ached terribly, and the shooting pain was still there.

    They flipped to their front, spead-eagle. Outside the ConnPod, they could sense the heat building up, and what little heat barrier they had breaking down.

    “ _Fifty thousand feet to ground contact_.”

    _Shit_

    “ _Altitude loss: critical_.”

    _Double shit_

    The Jaeger AI kept counting down to their death blow. It was then that Marshal Pentecost’s voice came through the communications speaker. “ _Gipsy, listen to me!_ ” The Marshal instructed, “ _Loosen all shock absorbers, use your gyroscope as balance and ball up! It’s your only chance_.”

    Greyson’s heart was in her throat. Their eyes met. _We’re not going to die. Not today._

    “Fuel purge! NOW!”

    A surge of power erupted out of Gipsay Danger’s reactor. They were thrown upwards about a few hundred feet. Greyson’s stomach did flips and cartwheels and she felt like she was at Coney Island.

    “ _Impact alert_ ,” the AI announced.

    Both Raleigh and Greyson saved their breath; they already knew what the other was thinking, but he said it anyway: “Brace for it, Sonny!”

    Darkness.

    Being inside Gipsy Danger stunted most of the fall, but Greyson could still feel the impact shock reverberating in her bones.

    The power had gone out. Or did it? Were they still alive? Lights flickered on and off. And then, stayed. The dust cloud cleared away after a while.

    They looked around and saw they landed in a sporting stadium. Gently, they straightened up to a standing position.

    “Sonny… Talk to me.” Raleigh was worried. Not because he thought Greyson was in shock — which, quite frankly, she was — but because of her little episode not too long ago.

    It had passed, but the thought haunted her. The thought of losing… losing… There may have been blood, but she was sure by now it was stopped.

    Trauma. All it was was trauma.

    “Grey,” Raleigh prompted once more, “you okay?”

    Greyson inhaled a much needed breath. “Yeah,” she breathed, voice wavering. “You?” Sharing a look, they managed to laugh. She shoved her worries away, into the deepest recesses of her mind, trying. They’d survived. The kaiju were gone.

    There she hoped that they were all alright.

**_2025, January 8 – 06:47 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

The roaring cheers were nearly deafening. Greyson was exhausted, but she could last.

    By the time she and Raleigh had led the group into the mess hall, there was already another wave of people there to meet them; two of which brought relief back to her.

    Herc Hansen called Raleigh’s name, and Chuck pushed past the workers just as his father did. When the Hansens got to the clearing there the two stood, Greyson threw her arms first around the father, careful not to budge his arm with the DriveSuit.

    Turning to her boyfriend, she grabbed his jacket and pulled him to her, feverishly kissing his lips. After pulling away, they rest their foreheads against each other’s. Greyson kept her hands around his neck, eyes closed, inhaling his scent.

    Having faced death twice in six hours would make someone think twice about the things they had.

    “I love you,” she whispered, the most honest she had been in years.

    “Ditto,” Chuck kidded, kissing her nose.

    They both stayed in each other’s embrace for a moment, until, that is, Herc began to speak. In a low voice, he said to Raleigh, “My kid’d never admit it, but he’s grateful.” Herc held out his good hand, and Raleigh took it. “We both are.”

    The door swung open again, and Pentecost’s voice soon followed, calling for the pilots. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, making an aisle way for the Marshal to pass.

    “In all my years of fighting,” Pentecost started, “I’ve never…” A genuine smile shone on his face. “…seen anything like that. Well done.” The Marshal spoke to them both, but his eyes lingered more on Greyson. “Proud of you,” he finished.

    Focusing his attention to the rest of the Shatterdome, Stacker Pentecost said loudly, “I’m proud of us all.”

    The hangar bay remained quiet as he made his way forward, to speak to the whole of the Shatterdome.

    “But, as harsh as it sounds, there is no time to celebrate. We lost two crews. No time to grieve.” Turning back around, he glanced at Raleigh and Greyson momentarily. “Reset that clock.”

    Everyone started to murmur around. The fleeting feeling of darkness dissipated. It was all business again.

    Greyson’s eye caught something. She raised her hand to her nose, signaling to the Marshal of a problem.

    He gave her a look. His nose was bleeding again. And he wasn’t getting any better. Pentecost pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and applied pressure to his nose. “Reset the clock,” he repeated.

    As the Marshal made his way away from the scene, a confused Raleigh, with furrowed brows, looked at Greyson for answers. She could only frown. _I’ll tell him later. There were more important things than what secrets Pentecost was hiding from the world._

    Greyson turned to the Hansens and stood in front of Herc. Chuck was more than confused. “May I speak to you? In private?” she voiced to the senior Hansen. His eyes narrowed questioningly, but he followed her out to the corridor. Once there, Greyson readied herself. She closed her eyes. “Promise me that you won’t get mad. At either of us. And that you won’t tell Chuck.”

    “Why wouldn’t I tell Chuck?” Herc inquired.

    She swallowed down her fear. “He doesn’t know about this yet, and I want to be the one to tell him.”

    Herc remained silent, allowing for her to continue.

    In a low octave, Greyson whispered, “Can you keep a secret?” She told him of her worry, her fear.

    To say the least, Herc Hansen ended up in mild shock. He got out of it quick enough that he gathered himself up to make even a snarky reply. “Am I gonna be out $92,880?”


	22. Come Away to the Water

**_2025, January 8 – 07:58 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

It had been a little over an hour since she and Raleigh had succeeded — _survived_ — the emergency run. And the scare.

    Greyson, seated firmly atop the leather cot in the room, could easily see that Herc was clearly tense. Even in her worry, the lieutenant felt horrible for putting the Hansen on the spot, coming up from his blindside with the news.

    Herc was stiff and at attention as he stood to the side of the hospital cot on which Greyson sat, having been pacing the room and scolding her for the past half-hour. (Not surprisingly, there was a lot of “You knew about it, and you _still_ risked your life!” and “I can’t believe how absolutely reckless you were acting” and “Don’t give me that look” and “Kid, I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m still mad.”)

    Dr. Lincoln entered the exam room from his leaving a few minutes prior, flipping through a chart and numerous test results. The doctor shifted through a few more pages before looking up and giving the two of them his full attention.

    Scared half to death as Greyson was, she held her water bottle with a death grip, enough that her hands began shaking; enough that Herc felt sympathetic and placed his calloused hands over hers.

    Herc snapped irritably at Link, “Well?”

    The medical bay doctor seemed to be unable to keep his smile from growing anymore. “The stress and trauma of the neural load — and not the mention the extensive fighting — had caused a threat, but it’s nothing serious.” Link looked at Greyson then. “You’re both fine.”

    That was the moment a singular weight lifted from Greyson’s shoulders. She saw Herc relax himself. A breath had escaped his lips and his shoulders visibly slouched. The senior Hansen rubbed the back of his head.

    “The bad news is,” Link continued on afterwards, “Darcy, I won’t allow you to partake in any major, stressful activities for the next few days; at most, a week. No heavy lifting and absolutely no getting back into Gipsy Danger.”

    Greyson’s eyes widened. “But — no, no, Link, what about the op? Once Gipsy and Striker are good to go, Pentecost would want us out _immediately_.” She was growing frantic, even by miniscule measures. “We can’t just risk another kaiju coming out of that Breach without our only two crews left unchecked.”

    “We can’t risk you both dying,” Link countered. “There’s no other option—”

    “Gottlieb had predicted that three kaiju would cross the Breach in four days’ time. We _have_ to be ready.” Greyson’s jaw was set.

    Link crossed his arms over his chest. Firmly, the doctor ordered, “You are not going anywhere, Sonny.” Stealing a glance in Herc’s direction, he said to Greyson, “Mr. Hansen, as you’ve noticed, is incapable of piloting Striker Eureka. And even if he were able, your only other replacement had gotten herself hurt. It’s either you do this safely, or not at all.”

    Greyson blinked at Link, shaking her head. “Hermann hasn’t been wrong _yet_. We don’t have a choice here, Link.”

    “Let’s hope he’s wrong this time, Sonny, for all of our sakes.” With that, he left the room.

    With news of the safety of his previous worries, the man surely seemed calmed down. Herc Hansen was lax, with eyes now softer than they were before. “Hey. This is not your fault.” The Ranger stood in front of Greyson, bowing his head to be in her line of sight.

    “Then why does it feel like it is?” she snapped at him, venom dripping with her every word. “Everything I’ve ever done, it was because I thought it was the right thing. I’ve always been careful — but _this_?”

    “There is no blame on you,” Herc reassured. “None of it.”

    Greyson scoffed out, “Yeah, sure — half of it is on Chuck, too.”

    Hercules was definitely through with the lieutenant’s act. He straightened his back and angled his head down to her. The Aussie’s jaw became stiff. Eyes narrowed. “Greyson Elijah Darcy, you stop that, and you stop it now. Enough responsibility has been shoved onto your shoulders already. Don’t feel sorry for yourself.”

    Her lips pressed into a firm line. There was no point in arguing with him now. “Yes, sir.”

    Herc put a hand under her chin then, scanning over the stitches on her brow, and the bandage under her cheek. “You’ll be alright, kid.”

    The lieutenant was shocked by the gesture. A lump formed in her throat. She didn’t know if it was by the exhaustion or something else, but she broke down crying.

**_2025, January 8 – 09:18 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“I can’t believe how reckless and stupid you were!”

    “I know.”

    “You both could have _died_ out there!”

    “Herc and Link have already given me the riot act.”

    He continued to pace around the room unit, running his hands through his ginger hair. Greyson watched his every move.

    It amused her when he stopped abruptly in the middle of the floor, a hand on his hip. Smiling, she chuckled. “What are you thinking about?” Greyson asked him.

    The answer she was given was only above a whisper: “I’m gonna be a father.”

    Greyson laughed. “Surely that was implied.”

    Chuck sauntered over to where she sat on the bed, taking a mere few strides, and planted a firm kiss to her lips. “We’re going to have a _family_ , Sonny.”

    She cupped Chuck’s chin and brought his lips to hers once more. “I know, Charlie,” Greyson hummed. “I know.”

    “We need to schedule an early leave, so we could fly to France. Immediately.”

    Greyson pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, saying in kid, “Why don’t we be heroes and save the world first?” When the joke seemed to have gone over Chuck’s head, she clarified, “You were _serious_?”

    Chuck nodded. “Just a bit.”  Sheepishly afterward, he scratched the back of his head. “Can I be honest with you?”

    “Of course,” Greyson replied. “Always.”

    The Australian refused to make eye contact with the Filipina as he took hold of both her hands. He began to fiddle with her fingers. The prolonged silence made Greyson excruciatingly curious.

    He mumbled.

    “What was that?”

    Her boyfriend breathed a sigh. “Know that I love you, and that I would have done it anyway. Eventually. Even if the baby was out of the picture.” Chuck smiled — it was the most sincere smile of his that she had ever laid her eyes on.

    Greyson felt her heart stutter over a beat before going onto its previously regular rhythm.

    “We’ve known each other for close around five years now and have been together for two of those.” Chuckling more to himself, he announced, “Personally, I never thought I’d ever love someone as much as I remember my old man loving my mother… But here we are.”

    Greyson smiled back at him, lacing her fingers with his. “Here we are,” she mimicked.

    There was a slight sense of hesitation before Chuck picked up his words. “Look, Sonny, I had pictured this going down another route; I’d pictured the route full of the sounds of Paris. I pictured us sitting in front of one another on a restaurant balcony, eating a plate of spaghetti that would bring us into a kiss, like that one movie I can’t remember.”

    “Lady and the Tramp,” Greyson answered with a contagious laugh.

    Chuck joined her. Continuing, he uttered, “I thought the day I would propose to you was going to be the cheesiest, loveliest day of your life. But what happened today sort of changed that.

    “Sonny. Greyson. Babe, I love you. I’m not saying all of this because I’m afraid of losing you; not because of our kid.” Chuck grazed the tips of his fingers over her stomach tenderly. “See, I know I’m not the most likable person—”

    “Don’t sell yourself short,” Greyson interjected. “You’re the most lovable person I know!”

    “I’m serious,” Chuck muttered.

    Greyson beamed at him, equally as sincere. “So am I.” She took a moment before standing on top of her own metaphorical soap box. “Charles Robert Hansen, I adore you. You better get rid of any insecurity you have because, Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

    Her lips were captured by his in one fell swoop. When he leaned her back into the mattress, Greyson felt tugs at her belt loops. By the time both of her hands had magically placed above her head, Chuck was cradling her hips.

    Before anything else had gotten ahead, the lieutenant slipped one of her hands from his. She trailed that hand up his torso and over his shoulder. A deep growl resided in the back of his throat.

    Very slightly and halfheartedly, Greyson nudged him away. “Chuck—”

    “Hmm?”

    Chuck pulled at her lower lip down with his teeth, and for a moment she lost her train of thought. Greyson’s tongue mapped out his mouth and she began to card her fingers through his hair before pulling away.

    The ginger pouted.

    Catching her breath, Greyson reminded him, “Link prescribed a no-sex rest for me, baby.”

    Chuck’s pout deepened into a frown. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, complaining fairly minimally. Greyson could only laugh.

**_2025, January 9 – 04:45 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson woke him with her screams. Her hands were swatting at whatever had landed on her in the dark.

    The bed shifted as Chuck reached for the light on the bedside table. He sat up, letting the comforter pool onto his lap. “Sonny. Sonny, what’s wrong?”

    It took her a few moments to catch her breath. Greyson’s heart was pounding in her ears. “There w — a spider. I-I…”

    “Shh, shh. C’mere.”

    The cool air was replaced by his warmth. Greyson felt the blanket being pulled up around her shoulders. Chuck’s mouth pressed against her hair, and he rested his chin on top of it.

    From her periphery, Greyson noticed Herc from across the room, swinging his legs over the side of his bed that was up against the opposite wall. After he pulled a shirt of his shoulders, his eyes scanned the clock on the wall. “I’ll be back,” he informed the two.

    “What for?” Chuck croaked out. After clearing his throat, he asked the question again.

    Herc only nodded in their direction once he shoved his feet into his boots. “It’s time for Sonny’s meds,” was all he said before slipping out of the door.

    And then he was gone.

    There was no conversation between Greyson and Chuck for a few minutes. They both just sat there in the dim lighting, in a serene silence.

    Greyson was glad that her erratic breathing had lessened when Chuck began to speak. “How did it start?” he asked.

    “My horrid fear of spiders?” she scoffed.

    He only nodded.

    She sighed, readying herself to go back and think of it. Greyson had not talked about her — let alone _thought_ about her, or her new family, for years now.

    There was a certain kind of ache that pained you to think about.

    “My mom,” she answered abruptly. “It was way, way before she left us. I was… four? I think five, at the most.” Greyson cleared her throat. “She was in the makeshift garden out back. I don’t even remember how it happened.

    “I was talking to her, right through the window, and I remember her laughing.” With closed eyes, Greyson furrowed her eyebrows. “She brushed off something on her arm. It was… maybe half-an-inch wide. We didn’t think anything of a spider bite. But then, after a few hours, she got sick. Really sick. My dad was still at work, so Raleigh’s mom drove us to the emergency room.”

    Off of Chuck’s curious glance, Greyson added in explanation, “The Beckets lived next door.”

    It looked to her that Chuck was going to say something, but he bit it back. Instead, he voiced, “What happened in the hospital?”

    Greyson gulped. “She almost died,” she muttered. “The spider was venomous, and, by some ungodly thing, the venom had traveled dangerously close to her heart. Her symptoms were getting worse. After chucking up everything she’d had for a day, my mom started to choke up blood.”

    Chuck combed his fingers through her hair. She found comfort enough in his actions.

    “Dominique, Raleigh’s mom, was trying to comfort me because I’d started crying, I remember.” Greyson felt her eyes become unfocused, and she stared at the openness of the men’s room with eyes half-closed. “I remember thinking that if something that small could cause so much damage, why wouldn’t people be more wary of them? I guess… since I always avoided the danger, I began to fear it.”

    His fingers hooked under her chin. Greyson didn’t realize that she had been playing with the frayed threads in the covers. Her brown eyes closed upon the touch of Chuck’s lips to her head. He pulled away from her forehead before leaving a feather-light kiss to her lips. “You got nothing to be afraid of,” Chuck told her. “Not with me. It’s not in my blood; I’m Australian.” He laughed at his own joke. “Nah, we’ll just step on ‘em.”

    Greyson snorted down a laugh, shaking her head. She leaned into Chuck, biting back a smile as his howling laughter continued. Oh, did that boy think he was the most hilarious guy out there!


	23. See You Again

**_2025, January 9 – 06:14 – Victoria Harbor, Hong Kong, China_ **

Roland Kincaid had hooked his friend, Donald Ressler, up with a job down at the docks once upon a time, and that was where they were on the off-days from the dojo.

    The two of them were going through their usual rounds when Donny had noticed some large debris in the waters. “Look at that!” he barked in disgust, throwing a hand in the direction of the floaters. “Who would leave so much gorram crap in the ocean?”

    Rory snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he walked up beside the blond. Upon looking out to the open bay, the grin on his lips fell at the same time that his arms fell to his sides. “Donny, I don’t think those are debris in that water.”

    “What?” The look on Donny’s face said it all; he didn’t catch it at first. “What do you mean?” he asked. Donny looked closer then, and there his eyes caught sight of two army-green suits, and three red and gold. “Oh, my God… They’re the Rangers!”

    They two moved without thinking. Donny remembered seeing Rory at the helm, steering the boat forward, as he shoved on a life vest and hooked a lifesaver onto his arm.

    He jumped.

**_2025, January 9 – 06:42 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“Aren’t you Noah’s girlfriend?”

    The nurse gave Greyson a pointed look, testing the waters in between them. “Yes, and you’re Hansen’s.” She handed the lieutenant a tin.

    Greyson took the metal container and proceeded to fumble with it. “Point?” she asked.

    “You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you seemed to be, is all,” Cora Damaris explained matter-of-factly. She shrugged.

    While turning to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, Cora gave Greyson a sideways glance. “Dr. Lincoln advised you to get off any other medications, yes?”

    “Link only repeated it, oh, I dunno, _twelve times_ ,” she replied sarcastically.

    “When did you run out of Metharocin?” the nurse asked, changing the subject.

    Greyson thought, “A little under a week.” She added, “Missing a few days wouldn’t make me so radioactively poisoned, would it?”

    “There is a slight risk, but I don’t think it would be bad…”

    It sounded as if she were finished, but Greyson could see one thing from the slight tension in her shoulders: Cora was definitely keeping something back. The former pursed her lips. “Ms. Damaris, I know what you’re thinking. It’s the baby, isn’t it?”

    She didn’t answer immediately. Then: “No.”

    A lie.

    When Cora faced Greyson again, the latter almost let out a breath. Her dark hair reminded her of her mother; the line of her lips, the shape of her eyes.

    God knew where that woman could be now, and a little part of Greyson didn’t really care. Another part of her felt the need to chastise the initial thought, but, at the same time, _she didn’t care_.

    Cora pointed to the tin Greyson had in her hands as she said, “I have to limit you to taking the pill once a day, but I know you’re aware of the dosage.” She held forward a semi-translucent bottle, 500 milliliters of antibiotics.

    The contents inside were of a candy pink tint: At least it was flavored.

    “I figured downing pills was enough, so I had Lincoln prescribe you the liquid kind. Two tablespoons, twice a day.”

    Gratefully, Greyson curled her fingers around the bottle. “Thank you, Nurse Damaris.”

    The brunette nurse nodded to the lieutenant with a genuine grin on her lips. “My pleasure, Lieutenant Darcy.”

    Cora walked her to the entrance of the medical bay. Before Greyson was able to successfully leave the vicinity, she ran into someone. Greyson _literally_ ran straight into someone, and it sent a shock through her.

    After gathering her bearings, Greyson managed a smirk. “Noah Geiszler. What a sight for sore eyes.” She further questioned, “Where have you been? You weren’t with K-Sci last I knew.”

    Sheepishly, the young Geiszler rubbed at the back of his neck. “Pentecost had me oversee the Jaeger technician crews. Been busy.”

    “Oh, yeah,” Greyson muttered. “I remember.”

     The lieutenant followed Noah and Cora to the entrance of the medical bay into the rest of the Shatterdome. There, she noticed one tiny thing that forced her to mask a girlish giggle with a fake cough.

     Noah had turned to give her a side-look, but he still walked hand-in-hand with Cora. They linked their fingers as they walked. It was sweet and disgusting, all at once.

    “You know,” Noah started, “Gipsy Danger is real banged up. She’s almost to full-functionality, but before we got out hands on her hull—”

    Greyson cut him off from finishing his sentence. “Oh, I know full well what her condition was. In fact, both Becket and I do.”

    Cora, in a not entirely smooth motion, elbowed Noah in the ribs. The man in question paled in comparison to the white walls. “I’m sorry, Sonny,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean—”

    “—what Noah meant,” Cora finished, saving her boyfriend’s behind, “was that Gipsy doesn’t feel as mad as she may look.”

_So, we’re speaking in metaphors now._

    “Well, Gipsy is really grateful about you lot have done.” Greyson smiled warmly at her friend, wanting to leave the conversation at that.

**_2025, January 10 – 09:30 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“I’ll trade you the pudding for you cake.”

    His eyes flickered over to the pudding cup, squinting. “What kind is it?”

    “Tapioca, but—“

    Greyson’s pudding cup disappeared from her tray within three seconds. She chuckled to herself, forking the slice of the newly acquired mocha cake.

    Raleigh started to moan aloud, spooning more pudding.

    The lieutenant threw her napkin in his direction. “Just finish up, Rals. Tendo wanted us to test-drive Gipsy Danger an hour ago.”

    The veteran Ranger gave the woman a slight smirk, making a point to gorge in his pudding, making the most inappropriate of sounds. Through a full mouth, he said, “Iths bin tree dayz.” Raleigh swallowed. “He can wait another _few minutes_.”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Greyson waved off. “We have to run through DriveSuit checks, and then do… full-evals with GD… before…” Her eyes traveled to the guards near the mess hall entrance. The words coming out of her mouth slowly stopped flowing. Her ears strained to hear the radios emitting static before they sounded with inaudible words.

    Raleigh followed her general line of sight.

    At first, it was two guards that left their posts. Others that milled around in the mess hall broke position.

    From the corner of her eye, Greyson saw Raleigh’s eye brows furrow together before he took a swig from his cup.

    “Wonder what’s goin’ on.” Raleigh turned to her. “You’re in the loop usually,” he muttered, eating another spoon full of pudding. “Do you know what’s up?”

    Greyson said, “Not really, but that’s what I plan to find out.” Pulling her jacket over her shoulders, the lieutenant stood up from her seat. “You planning on coming?”

    He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

**_2025, January 10 – 09:43 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

There was an extra buzz of excitement in the halls of the Hong Kong Shatterdome when both Greyson and Raleigh left the mess hall. It compared to the air around the staffers at the beginning of the year, when news of a left-over Ranger was coming to the ‘Dome was circulating.

    Greyson followed the last ‘Dome guard that was ahead of them, and she jogged after the fast-paced security. After weaving in between other workers and meandering to the surface, she and Raleigh and she got to the helipad.

    The radio silence was coming in and out, voices filling it. A number of people were outside, scrambling around to wait for what came next. The helipad was filled with ‘Dome personnel and staffers and incoming security guards and, from what Greyson noticed, medical teams. From above, she could hear the whirring of a Jumphawk’s blades.

    Raleigh’s fingers grasped at Greyson’s jacket sleeves; she felt his grip tighten. The amount of bodies outside the Shatterdome threatened to part them from their goal: The front of the wave of human bodies.

    Greyson’s ears heard mostly Chinese. Though the Filipina lieutenant was not particularly strong in the language, she got the basics. She managed to piece together that surviving pilots were found down the bay area by workers; more specifically, American workers.

    The newfound information pushed Greyson to speed up her pace with Raleigh fast on her heels. By the time they made it near the front of the crowd, two people in red DriveSuits had already been put on stretchers. The third, ghostly white, was place on another. The Weis.

    As more medics and guards came forward, Greyson was shoved aside. The slick, wet tarmac didn’t make for good traction. Suffice to say, her life flashed before her eyes as she fell to her demise.

    Raleigh scoffed out a laugh when he simply caught Greyson by her elbow. “You okay?”

    Greyson sighed in response, “Okay. I’m okay.” Steadying her footing, Greyson shook her arms out, squinting irritably as the rain pestered her. She watched over people’s shoulders as two more stretchers were brought forth and were then rolled back to the Shatterdome. It was the Russians.

    Her eyes closed and she let a breath escape from between her lips. It was like a huge weight was being lifted from her chest.

    However the Rangers survived was beyond her imagination (a miracle, by her count), and the pilots seemed only _just_ alive. Some looked worse than others.

    “…look, man, why’d I have to be brought in?”

    The voice caught Greyson’s attention whereas Raleigh’s gaze was still locked onto the retreating stretchers. She leaned on the balls of her feet, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger.

    “I found them, and that’s it,” the new person had continued. “Hey, hey. Would anyone mind explaining me why I was needed?”

    Greyson’s eyes began to widen as the stranger and the personnel accompanying him passed by them. His blond hair was shorter than she could remember, trimmed cleanly and parted down the side like he always liked it done. The man looked well, healthy, and most definitely _not_ dead.

    It felt as if a ghost had passed directly through her, alerting all of her senses, and then shutting down her brain functions entirely. Greyson reached a hand to Raleigh’s forearm, which caused him to turn.

    In that moment, she felt him tense. The air around them was cold, and goose bumps rose on her skin.

    The rain had stopped for a few precious moments.

_I know that voice._

    Both Greyson and Raleigh had seen a ghost. Except, he wasn’t much of a ghost.

    Raleigh pushed past people and stood in the middle of the walkway where the crowd had parted. Greyson couldn’t decipher the look on his face. The Becket’s expression was one of shock, disbelief, anger, and hope, all in one.

    Then, his lips parted. “Yancy?” His voice was soft, quiet, as if a young child had spoken. He was loud enough, it seemed, for the worker to turn and face him.

    Blue eyes met blue. It felt like the whole universe had frozen when they looked at each other. “Who’s Yancy?”


	24. Legacies

**_2025, January 10 – 09:53 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“I know Yancy realizes that he had a life before,” Raleigh Becket pointed out. “Marshal, what’s the harm in speaking with him?”

    “Whoever he used to be and the guy he is now,” Greyson answered, leaning against the Marshal’s desk slightly, “I don’t think he’s ever been the kind to accept something _this_ unbelievable, even if it’s the truth.”

    Raleigh gawked at Greyson, his eyebrows going higher and higher on his forehead. “So, you would rather keep him in the dark about this?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

    “That is so not what I was saying, Rals. Chill.”

    “Yancy’s come back to us, Sonny. I could go and talk to him; he’ll _listen_ to me,” Raleigh offered enthusiastically. “We could just explain to him everything that happened — simple.”

    “I can’t allow you to make contact with him, Mr. Becket,” Marshal Pentecost retorted. His tone was firm and final. “Your brother is not himself. He is under tangible amounts of—”

    “With all due respect, Marshal, he’s _my_ brother!”

    “Raleigh, he doesn’t even _remember_ us, let alone know that. After Stacker—” Greyson caught herself, growling internally. “Sorry — after the Marshal—”

    “Dammit, Sonny, this is Yance we’re talking about here — _our_ Yancy—”

    “I’m aware of that, Rals—”

    “My brother — _your_ best friend —”

    “—but we can’t just shove everything onto him.”

    “—he is in there somewhere. He’s supposed to be dead, but—”

    “Would you rather he _still_ be dead? Huh?” Greyson stood with her hands to her hips, feet planted firmly on the ground to keep her stance. Her mouth was set in a way anyone knew she meant business. “Rals, answer me: Would you?” she repeated, pressing the question.

    “No!” Raleigh argued, appalled she would even consider that. “God, no….” He ran his calloused hands through his wind-swept, blond hair before growling out a deep, dejected sigh. Raleigh pinched the bridge of his nose as he breathed, his voice cracking when he spoke. “I just want my brother back.”

    When the Jaeger pilot looked back up, Greyson noticed how his eyes glistened, watering as if nearly brimming with tears. She moved from her position near the Marshal’s desk and over to where Raleigh leaned against the far wall that consisted of windows overlooking the bay.

    Quietly, Greyson said his name just low enough for only him to hear: “Rals…”

    Pentecost voiced, “We’re going to bring Yancy to the counselor, question him; possibly reestablish him with our world.” He took out his pill box and ingested the anti-radiation pills.

    Greyson noted the look Raleigh gave the Marshal, realizing he was out of the loop. She turned to their commanding officer, serious. “After you see to him and gauge what he knows. If he’s doing okay, can we talk to him? At least that?”

    “I can make no promises.” Marshal Pentecost stood from his rather large seat behind the desk, buttoning up his uniform as he did so. “When I come to find either of you later on in the day, I better have heard no complaints. Are we clear?”

    The lieutenant nodded in respect. “Crystal, sir,” Greyson answered automatically.

    Pentecost turned to the silent Ranger, looking at him blankly, however waiting the answer.

    “Yes, sir,” Raleigh all but grumbled.

**_2025, January 10 – 11:41 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

The office was no different than every other administrative facility in the entirety of the Hong Kong Shatterdome: minimal amounts of furniture, barren walls, and at least one official whose body language expressed clearly that they could be doing something else more interesting than being present. Donald Ressler was perched on the edge of the couch, anxious and uncomfortable after being given some startling information. The counselor, a calm man in uniform, gave him a moment.

    “You’re telling me that I used to be one of the Greats?” Donny reiterated. “That I’m… _him_?” He was in disbelief more than anything else. One would suppose that happens when someone was reintroduced to themselves after knowing nothing.

    “That’s one way of putting it,” the counselor responded. His gray eyes appeared already bored of their conversation. When Donny didn’t continue their conversation, he said, “Alright, if you’re not willing to share, we can do it the old-fashioned way. Talk it out.

    “After Knifehead, you — or, rather, what was Yancy Becket was declared KIA, and Raleigh was labeled a left-over, later to be dismissed for disorderly conduct,” he reiterated.  “From what the PPDC was given—” The counselor swiped on the holopad screen, skimming over documents, as Donny assumed. “—your injuries were cared after at a hospital in China some days later. No DriveSuit was ever retrieved, and you’ve been in the country since, with the Kincaid.”

    Donny’s eyes flickered to the other man in the room, the Marshal, before speaking once more. “I don’t buy it, answers or no answers. No one can survive that kind of attack, or nearly drowning in freezing water…”

    The holopad that the counselor scribbled on seemed to him more interesting than the man before him that had, up until the night prior, been declared dead. “Apparently, _you_ are capable of it. Years of trauma may have factored into your semi-recent case of amnesia, Mr. Becket, and I—”

    “It’s _Donny_ ,” the blond man interrupted firmly, his jaw visibly going taut as he clenched his teeth together. “It has been for years.” Upon looking back down, it seemed the photograph he was shown previously from the Alaskan Shatterdome just stared back at him, almost taunting him.

    The date at the corner of the photograph read: 6/15/16. 10:09.

    One guy in the photograph looked to be Asian-American and passionately obsessed with elaborately-colored suspenders. His hair was slicked back and he was sporting a small smile, an arm thrown lazily over the next man’s shoulders. Donny found it easy to put a name to the face of Raleigh Becket; the kid was one of the first Rangers to drop off the face of the Earth without dying first. The half-smirk he wore seemed all too familiar.

    Donny also recognized himself as “himself” — the man, everyone told him, that was Gipsy Danger’s old Ranger, Yancy Becket — under the thick snow jackets, with the broad grin lighting up his expression, all natural and relaxed with the people that surrounded him. It was surreal to see something he couldn’t quite recall.

    The woman they called Greyson Darcy — the one he had seen with Becket outside on the Shatterdome’s tarmac mere hours ago — she was something else entirely. In the photo, her arms were wrapped around the elder Becket’s waistline. Her tan cheeks were reddened by the cold weather of Alaska, but what truly caught Donny’s attention was where she was looking.

    While the men had all looked at the camera, Greyson looked at Yancy with such an obvious expression of adoration and love. Donny only recognized the look because he had regularly been caught giving that same gaze to Flick Kincaid.

    Marshal Stacker Pentecost was stood off to the far side of the office, watching over Donny and the counselor. The authoritative figure hadn’t spoken all too much since they put him in there, but the Marshal was arguing rather strongly with Raleigh and Greyson not too long ago; it became apparent that the doors weren’t sound-proofed.

    Donny and the man clad in blue looked each other in the eyes, gauging the other’s silence. “Marshal,” the blond finally spoke out, his curiosity piqued to its maximum, “frankly, I don’t believe a word this shrink says — no offense.”

    The counselor shrugged. “None taken.”

    Marshal Pentecost huffed — probably amused, Donny couldn’t be sure. “Rest assured that everything we have told you thus far has been the truth.”

    “How the hell am I capable of resting,” Donny began, “when I was just taken from the city with a shit ton of questions and no straight answers?” His eyes were wide, expectant. He stared at the Marshal.

    When Pentecost chuckled – the smallest chuckle anyone could have ever heard – Donny became even more angered. “What’s so funny, Marshal?”

    “If you were under my command, I would have threatened to dismiss you.”

    Donny’s brows furrowed more, if ever possible. “But I’m not.”

    “Now, if I remember, these tantrums and curses usually were followed by: ‘Pardon my French’.”

    Something in Donny was struck, like a string being plucked. The blond blinked slowly at Marshal Pentecost, mouth opening and closing as if wanting to speak; only his brain couldn’t form the words. “How did you know I say that?”

    In a dry, arid tone, the counselor butted into the conversational exchange. “Because he’s an all-seeing, all-hearing guardian power.”

    “Perhaps it has something to do with you being under my command for some time,” Pentecost pointed out, “that both you and Lieutenant Darcy had picked up that phrase and grown fond of it.”

    Donny cocked his head, brows pushing together, looking back and forth between the other two in the room with him. “I don’t know her, and I’m not a-a _Ranger_ ,” he pressed. “I’m just a fisherman — a _fisherman_ , with some years docked from the memory.”

    The Marshal’s eyebrows rose as if they foreshadowed the shooting down of the man’s adamant conjecture. “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Becket? The world is coming to an end. Who would you rather be? The one name within billions that stands by as it goes to hell, or the one of few Rangers that slay the dragons?”

    Donny’s chest rose as his shoulders were squared. Finally, he asked, “Am I… really Yancy Becket?”


	25. Maps

**_2025, January 10 – 11:46 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson couldn’t stop.

    Greyson couldn’t stop fidgeting; stop pacing; stop worrying; stop thinking the worst. It was all like a fog to her mind, like a thick blanket of thoughts gathered together and spread her focus so thin that she wasn’t sure what to worry about.

    Greyson just wasn’t able to get the last day through her head.

    The Aleksis and Sasha Kaidonovsky were in the Emergency Medical Bay, being patched up before their much needed surgeries; given a physical evaluation on top of general checks.

    Two of the Weis were already in surgery; the third was… He had been relieved of his DriveSuit, called DOA at Victoria Bay.

    If it weren’t January, Greyson would have suspected it to be some later day of resurrection. Everyone that they thought they had lost was coming back — well, _almost_ everyone.

    “G, you okay?”

    Greyson’s train of thought was taken off the rails. The woman in question looked up to meet the gaze of one Tendo Choi. He had a mug of hot coffee in his hand, and she took it gratefully.

    “Not in the slightest,” the lieutenant replied to him honestly, blowing on the surface of the drink. Her hands cupped the mug. Lips met the warmth of the beverage. “Tendo, I don’t even know what to do,” Greyson revealed. “Yancy — he doesn’t remember anything. I mean — it-it’s great… that he’s…”

    Tendo started to shake his head. “Yeah,” he breathed lamely, “I get it. Like seeing a damned ghost.” He leaned against the wall, sliding down until he sat beside his friend.

    She said, “It’s not that, Ten. He doesn’t remember _anything_ about his life.” Greyson turned to stare at the coffee, following the steam coming from it. Quietly, the Filipina sighed out, “He looked _right through me_ , right through us. And Rals… Rals isn’t taking it well.”

    “I wouldn’t doubt it. One day you lose a brother, the next The Walking Dead doesn’t even recognize you.”

    Yancy Becket was alive. That was a sentence that the whole of the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps had never thought of hearing again.

    He himself was well, but his memories weren’t exactly intact. Yancy kept insisting that he was someone called Donald Ressler, and that he had lived in China for as long as he could remember (which, even according to him, wasn’t long). All he did in that life of his was feed chum to the fish. He was adamant that his previous life couldn’t have been part of something like the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps.

    Greyson couldn’t believe it — _Stacker Pentecost_ couldn’t believe it, but it was definitely true. DNA tests had been done and this Donald Ressler matched 100% to Yancy. There was an instance where Greyson and Raleigh both thought Yancy’s training and his whole life, his ticks, and lifestyle were erased from his system.

    Whatever the hell happened to him after the fight with Knifehead, it did him in good. For the last couple hours, he was supposed to be with the counselor, in some sort of weird Pons-like program that seemed to connect non-Drift Compatible people in a brain-to-brain server. No one aside from the Defense Corps and United Nations higher-ups were told of the intimate details concerning that device. Greyson assumed her uncle, Jasper, and Caitlin D’Onofrio were behind it all.

    Greyson started to chew on the corner of her lip, focusing her attention to Tendo again. “Stacks has got you and the J-Tech teams on full throttle the past few days,” she said in order to change the subject. “How’re my babies doing?”

    “Striker Eureka’s all but fully shined down,” Tendo explained, “which is more than I can say about Gipsy Danger. The gal’s got some miles on her, G.” Chuckling a bit to himself, he nudged her side with his elbow. “What about you? Okay?”

    “I’ve been worse.” Greyson grunted as she got back to her feet. Turning, she reached out a free hand to Tendo, who in turn promptly thanked her for the lift.

    He inquired, “The Marshal grounded you, I take it?”

    “Grounded so deep, as far as I’m concerned, I’m pretty much _under_ ground,” she joked, hooking her arm around Tendo’s.

    As the two of them made their way to the LOCCENT, Tendo gave her a look and pointedly told her, “He knows what he’s doing.”

    “Does he really?” Greyson countered. “Mako’s out of commission. I’m grounded. Raleigh’s barely back on his feet. Hell, even _Yancy_ —”

    “—can help, and you know it.”

    Greyson raised a brow at Tendo, giving him an incredulous look to say _as if_. “Ten, he doesn’t even remember who he was, or what his life was like. How can anyone expect him to be able to go straight into the Drift like absolutely nothing had happened?”

    The tech chief officer scoffed as if the answer was dancing stark naked right in the lieutenant’s face. “Becket boy did. Why can’t he?”

    “For one, Raleigh didn’t lack twenty-five years of memories.”

    "That's implying he has enough storage space." Tendo had a dopey grin on his face.

    Like a wayward branch from a windswept tree, something inside Greyson snapped. It wasn't Tendo's fault. He was a good soldier and made for an even better man. But right now, Greyson needed air.

    Tendo noted that her shoulders stiffened and abstained from a nervous chuckle, "Hey, you know I was kidding." He unconsciously placed his other hand on her upper arm.

    "Yeah, I know, I just..." Greyson's mouth ran fruitlessly as she scoured her brain for the right words. "I just need to get out of here."

    Before the tech chief could reply, Greyson was vacating to the surface.

    Raleigh Becket was certainly not the last thing on her mind.

**_2025, January 11 – 05:42 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“So, you really were telling the truth.”

    Raleigh held in a chuckle, masking it over by clearing his throat. “Yeah, Yance, we do tend to be truthful sometimes.”

    Yancy was staring at the thick stack of heavily faded pictures in his hands. Raleigh and Greyson had taken down every single photograph from their wall corkboards and piled them together, just for the sake of perhaps jogging something from Yancy’s memory.

    At the least, the confines of Raleigh’s dorm unit kept their reminiscing to their own selves.

    “I… I think I remember this one.” Yancy held out a photo of the three of them during one of Jazmine’s birthday parties, a ghost of a smile dancing across his thing lips.

    It was focused on Raleigh: he had wet tears streaming down his face because his little sister had gotten cake frosting on his favorite cargo shorts. Greyson was off to the side, laughing with one of their old friends in the picture.

    Greyson barked out a laugh, taking the photograph into her own hands. Turning to Raleigh, she started to sing the introductory words to Nickelback’s “Photograph”; she sighed, “Oh, man, this feels like forever ago.”

    The last breath seemed like a millennia’s time away, too, when in fact it was not even four days. It sometimes felt like three hours, not ninety-six. The fatigue had only recently caught up to Greyson, and she wanted very much to crawl into a cave and hibernate for a good number of years.

    It had been a day since the five Rangers were brought in from one of the hospitals in the city. Majority of the Shatterdome workers already knew the story; word got around quickly.

    Damage to the central city wasn’t under a few million, maybe billion dollars’ worth. With all the debris from the fight between the Jaegars and Otachi and Leatherback, Greyson suspected that a lot of people in the PPDC were shocked to find only a few civilians were injured.

    It was the beginning hours of their daily routines. Raleigh had woken Greyson up at around four to catch an early breakfast when they ran into Yancy — Donny — on the way to the mess hall. The poor guy was lost, hungry.

    Raleigh wanted to start over with him. He knew Yancy didn’t remember — couldn’t, wouldn’t — and he wanted to make up for the lost time. The three of them got to talking; Ya — Donny found out about both Mako and Greyson’s conditions, and was volunteering to help out however he could.

    Greyson supposed that part of Yancy never really did go away, his impulse to help.

    The whole situation was odd, but it was the safest one to go by. Mako still had a few weeks left for her injury to completely heal, and it was widely known that Greyson was on prohibited active duty. To look for new recruits that would only hopefully be close to Drift Compatible with Raleigh would take too long.

    Without much of a choice, Marshal Stacker Pentecost reluctantly agreed to let the two men try.

    Suffice to say, their Drift went impressively fine. It wasn’t perfect, nor was it as great as past Drifts from half a decade before, but it was good enough. Some part of the old Yancy must have still been inside the new one because no RABITs were chased down, and no one died.

    In Greyson’s book, it was a perfectly normal day.

**_2025, January 11 – 13:09 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“My name is Yancy Becket. I’m the oldest of three. I used to co-pilot Gipsy Danger with my younger brother, Raleigh.” It was a mantra, a repetitive chant. There was no Donald Ressler, and there never will be a Donald Ressler. There was and is Yancy.

    But why was everything so difficult? He just wanted someone to tell him that everything was going to be fine; that he wouldn’t lose his old family or the new one; that he could somehow keep both of his lives without having to cut his self into two. That’s all he needed.

    Yancy was in his unit, standing in barefoot in the bathroom. With his hands wrapped around the sides of the sink, the ex-Ranger stared at himself through the foggy mirror. He saw shaggy, blond hair, two blue eyes, a narrow nose, full lips; he saw a man who had lost himself.

    He was Yancy Becket, for God’s sake. He was a goddamn Ranger, and he sure as hell wasn’t acting like one.

    “I was pulled out of our ConnPod back in Alaska. I disappeared.” Yancy sighed, dejected, scrutinizing himself as he continued while hoping to jog something else in his memory. “I was taken care of in China, and I fell in love with a girl who is probably worried off her ass—” He caught himself before he began to rant on. Talking to oneself was crazy enough; arguing is another thing altogether.

    Yancy shook his head, running the tap and putting water on his face. His eyes stayed trained on the running water, watching as the liquid spiraled into the drain.

    He remembered going to the movies with Raleigh and Jazzy and Sonny when they were younger, catching almost all of the Marvel movies whenever they could. Yancy always liked the Captain America films because he loved the relationship between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes; their story arcs in the entire series were relatable enough.

    Taking a breath, Yancy spent a moment psyching his self into moving on. When he looked back into the mirror, it was clearer. There was something like a piece being put back into place that had occurred within him.

    “You’re the kid from Anchorage that was too dumb to run away from a fight. Be Bucky,” he told himself. “Be the Winter Soldier.”

    That was it. The world moved Heaven and Earth for the exact moment Yancy realized what was going to help him beat the odds. Relating to fictional characters was usually Sonny’s age-old coping mechanism, but he figured it was his turn for once.

    “My name is Yancy Becket...”


	26. Canceling the Apocalypse

**_2025, January 10 – 15:50 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

It was in the early afternoon when Raleigh went to go speak with Marshal Pentecost. Yancy was sent to the Medical Bay for an evaluation while Greyson went to see the Hansens.

    Chuck and his father were just leaving their room when the lieutenant sauntered over. She greeted them both before giving the son a chaste kiss.

    “Any news?” Herc asked as he came down the short steps. As they walked, the older man made sure to keep pace with the other two for conversation.

    The lieutenant shrugged slightly at his question, saying, “Striker Eureka has been shined down to one hundred percent functionality.” Greyson informed them, “According to Tendo, Gipsy Danger is almost at shape.”

    Herc remarked, “That’s always good to hear. Ready to head out at a second’s notice.”

    Chuck had said, “You’re not going anywhere” at the same time that Greyson said, “The Beckets had a successful Drift trial this morning.” She had a small grin on her face. “We’ve got that problem solved.”

    Focusing her eyes on Herc’s form, she called his attention. “Chuck’s right, Herc. How’s the arm, by the way?”

    “Getting there” was his to-the-point answer.

    After they three made it to the mess hall, it was obvious that there was a buzz of anticipation and worry in the air. It was highly doubtful that many people went to bed well in the past few days, with Hermann Gottlieb’s prediction of a Triple Event looming above their heads.

**_2025, January 11 – 23:04 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson had just gotten to the LOCCENT, with the doors opening upon sensing her movement. She caught Tendo calling up Pentecost on the comm feed.

    “…I just got two signatures with unprecedented dilation, 40-meter spikes.”

    She plopped into her chair, giving the instruments a quick once-over before sitting parallel to Mr. Choi. Answering Stacker’s question of the categories of the two kaiju, she said, “Checking the ratios, sir, both Category 4.”

    “ _Where’re they headed?_ ” the Marshal inquired.

    Tendo answered this time. “That’s the thing, they’re not heading anywhere. They’re hovering just above the Breach. It’s like they protecting it or something.”

    “ _Alright. Gipsy, Striker, on deck_.”

    Greyson spoke up. “But — sir — Herc can’t ride. His arm… He—”

    Stacker gave me a stern look, but he knew she was right. Either way, he responded, “ _You heard me_.”

    Tendo acknowledged the exchange and signed off the comm. He had Greyson contact the crews, and she radioed their scientist doctors who were still down in the city.

    “Newt and Herms are in the city, aren’t they?” she asked Tendo for confirmation.

    The chief officer gave her a side glance. “Yeah, I think so.”

    Radio silence was broken as Greyson spoke. “LOCCENT to Ground Team. Over.”

    “ _LOCCENT, we hear you loud and clear. What do you need?_ ”

    Greyson asked, “Is Dr. Gottlieb anywhere in the vicinity?”

    When she got a hold of the good doctor, Greyson explained to him the current situation. Long story short, Gottlieb wasn’t exactly happy as Larry to find that his calculations were off by one little kaiju.

    Tendo and Greyson had shared a roll of the eye before leaving the area, heading down to the main Shatterdome floor. Everyone there, from pilots and researchers to LOCCENT staffers and displaced techs whose Jaegers were in shambles at the bottom of Victoria Bay, had one recurring thought running through their heads: They were all going to die.

    Greyson had just been going over the flight plan with the Jumphawk pilots when she heard Chuck’s voice in the distance. Turning to the pilots, she excused herself.

    Tendo came up behind the lieutenant. He said to Chuck, “You’re not suited up.”

    “Yeah, I’m aware of that, Elvis,” Chuck shot back sarcastically. “I need to know what’s going on.”

    “He said suit up, so suit up.”

    Greyson handed Tendo the holopad as they walked over to where the Beckets and Mao were standing, off to the side, obviously just trying to stay as relaxed as possible. Chuck followed in pursuit, Max’s leash tight in his hand. Greyson bent down to pick up the lovable fur ball, scratching the dog’s ears.

    “Tendo,” Chuck started after handing his girlfriend the leash, “I can’t pilot Striker on my own, now can I?”

    “Who said you were going at this alone?” she asked, shifting Max in her hold. He barked.

    “Well, Dad’s hurt, so who’s gonna be my co-pilot?”

    All five of them averted their attention to the opening bay doors. Out walked Herc Hansen and Stacker Pentecost, one of which was decked out in a full flight suit. Astonishment and curiosity passed between everyone in the moment.

    No one said a word as the two men approached their position.

    The Marshal was the first one to break the silence. “I don’t remember it being so tight,” he said, making the attempt to diffuse the tension. Pentecost shifted the front of his suit.

    Greyson had been convinced that she was never going to see that old thing ever again. The black DriveSuit was well-worn; had the symbol of the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps on its side.

    Pentecost had started to walk off, and Mako rushed past Raleigh and Tendo to go after him, limping the slightest bit as she went. Greyson placed Max onto the floor, handing his leash back to Chuck.

    Raleigh, Yancy, and Greyson stood in the middle of the two pairs. Mako and Stacker were talking; Herc and Chuck were exchanging between speaking in hushed tones and mildly angry ones.

    “…this wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t unhitched yourself from the rig,” Chuck had started.

    “You think I could’ve known it would happen?” countered Herc. “I’m lucky enough to even be standing.”

    “The old man’s off his rocker. What in God’s name makes him think—?”

    “—I get it; it’s your first deployment without me, you’re put off. But you have to trust the Marshal.”

    “All I care about right now is coming back from this alive, you know, for her.”

    “And you will.”

    Marshal Pentecost called for everyone’s attention before climbing up the hand of the broken Jaeger. Within the seconds of seeing him looking out over them all, Greyson pegged him as Atlas. The whole world settled on his shoulders. Sacrificed everything to sustain what was left of the Jaeger Program. They had been abandoned by the countries they had kept on trying to protect.

    Within the first few words of his speech, everyone in the Shatterdome had their eyes glued to their Marshal.

    “Today… today…” Pentecost took a breath before continuing. “At the edge of our hope, at the end of our time…” He turned forward then in order to look at everyone. “We have chosen to not only believe in ourselves, but in each other.”

    Though all attention had been drawn to where their Marshal stood, Greyson felt Chuck’s hand grasp hers. His eyes were focused forward until she turned to look at him. Their fingers laced together, and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile.

    “Today,” Stacker continued, “there is not a man or woman in here that shall stand alone. Not today.”

    She turned back. Chuck squeezed her hand.

    “Today, we face the monsters that are at our door, and bring the fight to them! Today we are canceling the apocalypse!”

    There was uproar of cheers not soon after. When Marshal Pentecost stepped down, it urged all crew in the ‘Dome to get down to business once again.

    They had Jaegers to launch on a suicide mission and a nuclear payload to deliver.

**_2025, January 12 – 00:38 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Yancy and Raleigh were in Gipsy’s ConnPod, running the usual pre-deployment checks, readying for their second Drift. With the approximate time it took for one Ranger to suit up, Greyson only hoped she could make it in time before Chuck and Pentecost went for their drop.

    The Filipina lieutenant made it around the corner to the main corridor, completely out of breath. Chuck was walked down toward the freight lift wherein the Marshal stood and waited. Herc was back some way, closer to her, holding Max’s leash.

    “Stacker.” The quake in Herc’s voice wasn’t masked. “That’s my son you got there. My son.” If Greyson’s boy had clear tears in his eyes, then Herc must have had them too.

    Chuck had turned back to give his father one final look when his eyes flickered to Greyson’s direction. His shoulders visibly slouched, and he dropped his helmet onto the ground before taking a step forward. Greyson ran down the hall, all but jumping into her boyfriend’s arms.

    She hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him into a bear hug. Chuck’s hands rested on the small of her back, his face buried in the crook of her neck. They both sniffed simultaneously. Greyson closed her eyes as tight as they would go, not wishing for any loose tears to escape.

    Chuck pulled back and touched his forehead against hers. He let out a haggard breath. “Hey.” With one finger, he brought her gaze to him. “Hey, look at me.”

    Greyson pressed her lips together. Sniffed. When she did look at him, she felt her cheeks become wet with moisture. His thumbs brushed them away.

    “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Okay?” She had asked him the question in an octave just above a whisper. Didn’t trust her voice with anything more.

    He let out a humorless laugh, keeping at arm around her while the other continued with thumbing away the wetness of her tear. “I promise,” he whispered back.

    “And—and don’t you go falling in love with any mermaids at the bottom of that ocean. No matter how pretty they are,” Greyson joked, barely being able to even hold back a sob. The corners of her lips started to turn down, but she forced them into a smile.

    “I’d rather have you,” Chuck whispered back, looking solemnly into her eyes.

    Greyson blinked away her tears, deciding to keep at her broken smile. Her heart was in her throat, but she was aware that she needed to be strong. She had been able to say goodbye to him, and she vowed that it wouldn’t be the last.

    It couldn’t be.

    It was her turn to wipe away his tears when one escaped and rolled down his cheek.  Even through her own blurred vision, she and Chuck looked at each other; memorized the contours of each other’s faces.

    Greyson leaned up and captured his lips with her own. She could feel all the emotion that they each poured into the gesture: sadness, devotion, relief, fatigue. Love.

    Chuck pulled away, only to give her another quick kiss. He sported a sad, sorrowful look, but he had long perfected the expression as he backed into the elevator beside Stacker.

    Greyson soon felt Herc’s presence walking up to the spot beside her.

    “Hey,” she called out. “I love you!”

    As the freight doors slid closed, Chuck smiled sadly, taking in a breath. “I love you, too.”


	27. Son of Man

**_2025, January 12 – 06:22 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Both Neural Handshakes from Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka were strong, tight — _enough_. The Super Sikorskys that carried the Jaegers across the Pacific Ocean were making good time to the Marianas Trench Breach zone in the southeast.

    However, it was safe to say that these may have been the longest six hours of Greyson’s life.

    There had been minimal chit-chat between both pairs of pilots, but Greyson figured that was the usual norm for them. _If it were me in Gipsy, I’d probably be_ —

    “ _Quit it with the Black Sabbath, kiddo_ ,” Yancy complained aloud. “ _Spare me_.”

    All Raleigh did was laugh.

    Tendo had been glancing at the monitor that showed the strength of the handshake between pilot and mecha. He had been doing that regularly for the past few hours. Aside from the tech chief’s obvious concern for the two pilots of Striker Eureka, everyone was grateful things were still going to plan.

    Greyson looked at the screens herself. Gipsy Danger’s pilots were faring well. Striker Eureka’s pilots were, surprisingly, also doing just as good. There was a slight fluctuation in Chuck’s frontal lobe apart from a little above-average heart rate, but otherwise, all four Rangers’ vitals were perfectly normal.

 _I’m probably just over-thinking things_ , she thought.

    When the Sikorskys had flown half a mile before the Breach, Greyson signaled over through the radio. “Disengaging transport.”

    Yancy and Stacker simultaneously hit their cable release buttons, and both mechs dropped into the ocean, displacing the waters. The Super Sikorskys unhinged the hold to the Jaegers and panned up upon letting go of some three thousand tons.

    Chuck had come online over the comms. “ _LOCCENT, all ports sealed. Ready to submerge_.” Raleigh relayed the same message, stating alike about Gipsy Danger.

    The Jaeger status screens showed both Ranger teams shutting all external port openings. Gipsy and Striker had submerged, ready to travel down a good seven thousand meters.

    For the sake of the over-communication that the Marshal always liked to hear, Greyson called out, “Both Neural Handshakes at one hundred percent.”

    Herc came up to the comm mic and pressed the button, having taken the commanding position as Acting Marshal in Pentecost’s absence. Mako walked in with him and Greyson gave her a small smile.

    Tendo acknowledged Herc’s presence in turn. “Neural Handshake confirmed, sir.”

    “Two actives still in circle formation in the Guam quadrant,” Herc read off upon looking at the screen. “Codenames: Scunner and Raiju. Both Category 4.”

    “ _Roger that_ ,” Stacker called into the HUD. To the other pilots, he instructed, “ _Half a mile from the ocean cliff, we jump! It’s three thousand meters to the Breach_.”

    “ _Half a mile?_ ” Chuck asked in clarification. “ _I can’t even see a damn inch ahead! How are we supposed to deliver the bomb?_ ”

     Moving across the ocean floor proved less difficult when both Jaegers moved in a forward-leaning half-jog, but even that stirred clouds of silt. The Mission Control screens could see that clearly — or, rather, not — from the heads-up display feeds.

    Raleigh started toggling with switches on the main console. “ _Visibility’s zero. Switching to instruments._ ”

    Tendo’s eyes caught a kaiju signature near the Jaegers on the screen. “Sir!” he called to attention.

    Herc comm’d through. “Gipsy, you have movement on your right. Three o’clock, three o’clock!”

    They saw Raleigh and Yancy looking around in the ConnPod. The Jaeger AI said, “One _hundred feet radius: clear_.”

    “ _Right flank’s clear. I got nothing_.”

    Greyson’s eyes widened as the remote sensors fed in more data about Raiju’s measurements. “Left now!” she warned. “And moving fast! Fastest kaiju on record.”

    Yancy, focused on moving, spoke out. “ _We don’t see anything. It’s moving too fast!_ ” It was true. Gipsy Danger’s instrument readouts showed next to nothing. And as Mako pointed out that the same case ran for Striker Eureka.

    “ _Eyes on the prize, Gipsy_ ,” Chuck had hollered. “ _Six hundred meters from the drop_.” To keep the techs updated, he added after they had dropped off one side of the trench: “ _Four hundred meters and closing_.”

    Tendo and Greyson both scooted in to face the main screen, keeping track of any and all movement. He zoomed in stats when the kaiju hovered. Herc stood close the latter’s side, watching the console.

    “Bogeys are stopping,” Greyson said.

    “Striker.” Herc relayed, “Bogeys are stopping. One o’clock.”

    Greyson let out a quiet sigh when Stacker forced his Jaeger to stop a short jump from the edge of the Breach. Her eyes roved over the mechs’ names on the screen.

    STRIKER EUREKA – STATUS: ACTIVE

    GIPSY DANGER – STATUS: ACTIVE

    Their longitude and latitude markers weren’t far from the other statistics.

    The lieutenant heard her boyfriend’s voice over the open comm. “ _Marshal, what are you doing!?_ ”

    “ _They’re_ _stopping. Why the hell are they stopping—?_ ”

    “ _I_ _don’t give a damn, sir! We’re three hundred meters from the jump!_ ”

    From the screen head, Greyson saw that the Marshal had shaken his head. “ _Something’s not right_.”

    Herc’s hold on the comm speaker was vice-like. “Striker, the bogeys aren’t following. Take the leap _now_!”

    A familiar voice came from the entrance. The owner of it skidded into the LOCCENT, arms flailing about. “Don’t do it!” Newt Geiszler shouted. “Don’t do it! It’s not gonna work!”

    Max had perked up from his spot on the floor, enticed by the new presences.

    Greyson turned in her seat just in time to see Newt shove Herc out of the way, with Hermann close on his tail. “Move, you fascist!”

    She pushed herself away from the console before the doctor had the chance to, making room for the two new men in the area.

    Newt grabbed for the comm mic, holding down the button. “Blowing up the Breach, it’s not gonna work!”

    “ _What do you mean? What’s not gonna work?_ ” asked the Marshal.

    “Sir, just because the Breach is open does not mean you’re gonna be able to get a bomb through,” rushed out Newt.

    Hermann picked up where the other left off, having run out of breath. He followed through with an explanation just as hurriedly. “The Breach genetically reads the kaiju like a… barcode, at the supermarket, at then lets them pass.”

    “Okay, so you’re going to have to fool the Breach into thinking you have the same code!”

    Yancy questioned, “ _And_ _how are we supposed to do that?_ ”

    “By making it think you _are_ a kaiju,” Newt explained.

    Hermann leaned for the microphone once more. “You have to lock onto the kaiju, ride it into the Breach. The Throat will then read the kaiju’s genetic code, and then let _you_ pass.”

    “If you don’t do it, the bomb will deflect off the Breach like it always has, and the mission will fail!”

    The time it took to relay all of that information was only under thirty seconds. Impressive. The inner cams showed Stacker and Chuck sharing incredulous looks.

   Herc shot a look to the two K-Science squints, and then took back the comm mic. “Alright! Now that you’ve heard all that, Striker, take the leap!”

    The kaiju alerts went on the heads-up display screen, and Tendo called for attention, his voice tense. “Sir, I have a third signature emerging from the Breach.” Herc relayed it.

    Greyson looked to Newt when he muttered, “It’s a triple event.”

    “Oh, God. I _was_ right,” Hermann sighed, shaken.

    “ _How big is it?_ ” The question came from Stacker Pentecost.

    Tendo widened the range and looked at the water displacement. The look on his face when he turned to Herc was grave, albeit it terrified.

     Pentecost asked again, “ _What category?_ ”

    Herc sighed out, “Striker. It’s a Category 5. The first ever.”

    The console screens looking into the ConnPods dimmed as the Category 5 covered the glow of the Breach. When it roared, the gut-retching sound resounded in the LOCCENT. Striker Eureka took a stance, unsheathing her Sting Blades. The superheated, carbon-nanotube-edge weapon lit up, reflecting the light from the gauntlets.

    Tendo stared at the screen, saying, “Bitch is big.”

    “Really?” Greyson scoffed, speaking for the first time in a while. “’Bitch’ is the best codename you can come up with?”

    “Use ‘Slattern’ if you must,” put in a disgruntled Hermann Gottlieb.

    “Striker, we see him,” called out Raleigh. “ _We’re right behind you, about a hundred meters. We’re gonna come around your three o’clock, try to flank him. Standard two-team formation. Just keep him busy for a few mi—!_ ” Scunner had caught them off-guard.

    Greyson pushed her chair back beside Tendo, regaining more focus on the mission operative. This whole op was possible to be dealt with easier if all four Jaegers were present, but for what the PPDC Jaeger Program had, it was a miracle both were still fighting.

    Gipsy Danger was giving Scunner a taste of what she got — well, enough of her weapons that they wouldn’t drown. Slattern had practically thrown Striker Eureka to the seafloor. The mecha hit an underwater volcano.

    The lieutenant hit the comm. “Gipsy — Raiju’s on your right flank, coming in fast.” The brothers reacted too late. Or was it the density of the deep waters that kept Gipsy from moving at their maximum speed? Greyson grimaced when levels went red, and the readings to their arm went cold. “Sir,” she called to Herc, “Gipsy’s right is offline. Right knee all but crippled.”

    Readings showed Raiju coming back to attack. “Gipsy, coming up on your twelve o’clock,” relayed Herc. “Full speed! Get out of the way!”

    They didn’t move.

    Greyson screamed out their names internally, her hand balling into a fist. The HUD feed showed locked torque and Yancy followed his younger brother’s lead with the Chain Sword. The brothers braced their left arms as Raiju came at them; got the sucker right down the middle. The Kaiju Blue tinted the nearly pitch black waters.

    Everyone in the LOCCENT sighed as a collective to see the alligator-kaiju’s signature died out.

    “ _The release is jammed. We can’t deliver the payload, sir!_ ” Chuck. Her Chuck. “ _We’re still armed. But the hull is compromised. Half out systems are offline, sir._ ”

   “ _We need to override the_ —”

    Greyson’s hand balled into a fist once again. She felt her nails digging into the skin of her palm. “Slattern has made contact,” she announced needlessly. Within the next ten seconds, her brows knitted together. “Wait. Both kaiju converging on Striker — fast.” The signal alarms were annoyingly blaring in the LOCCENT.

    “ _Hang on, Striker!_ ” Raleigh shouted. “ _We’re coming to you!_ ”

    “ _No!_ ” Stacker countered, forcing them to hesitate. “ _Gipsy! Do not come to or aid! Do you copy?_ ”

    “ _Hang on!_ ”

    “ _Stay as far back as you can!_ ”

    Greyson’s eyes flickered to the vital stats screen. All of their heart rates were high, beating faster with the passing of every moment. Adrenaline must have been coursing through their veins. Gipsy Danger’s readings were aligned almost perfectly; Striker Eureka’s read unbalanced, though only minutely. She saw unbalanced Drifts all the time, even with strong connections — it was probably fine.

    The youngest Becket was relentless, even concerning taking orders from his commanding officer. Even with Gipsy Danger’s entire right side null and void, they both still pushed. “ _We can still reach you_ ,” Raleigh gasped. “ _We’re coming for you_.”

    “ _No, Raleigh, listen to me_.” Déjà vu much?“ _You know exactly what you have to do. Gipsy is nuclear! Take her to the Breach._ ”

    “ _I hear you, sir. Heading for the Breach_.”

    The Ranger teams had an obvious exchange of conversation, and it still took Greyson a second to work things out on her own. “There’s…” She hesitated; panic beginning to grow in her chest. “There’s got to be another way. They can’t…” The lieutenant trailed off when Herc placed a hand on her shoulder.

    The fog of confusion that had once surrounded her lifted in place of the blanket of worry and panic. Everything was steered clear when Pentecost spoke again, this time to Mako.

    “ _Mako. Listen_ ,” he started. “ _I’ll always be here for you_.” Stacker’s voice was strained, but it was loud and clear from the speakers. “ _You_ _can always find me in the Drift_.”

    Greyson looked at the young Japanese woman with sympathetic eyes. She had not said anything in response, but the look on her face was enough to show it all.

    Raleigh’s voice came through again, talking to his brother’s direction. “ _We’re a walking nuclear reactor_ ,” the blond had reiterated. “ _We can destroy the Breach_.”

    Looking back and forth from both ConnPod feeds were a strain to Greyson’s corneas. She had to close her eyes for a moment (which only intensified her worry, for her imagination was free to run wild, but she was sure it wouldn’t stop). The lieutenant was surprised that her tech chief still had 20-20 vision.

    When her eyes opened, they landed on Striker Eureka’s video feed. The interior of her ConnPod looked like a hurricane had torn through it. She supposed it wasn’t too farfetched; when you’re in a man-made monster that’s able to fight a hurricane, you don’t come out without a scratch.

    Both the looks on Stacker and Chuck’s faces were stoic. The red alert lights had changed the hue of their surroundings, and the compromised rigs and hull were letting in gallons of water at a time. Circuits were beginning to go dark.

    “ _What can we do, sir?_ ” Chuck asked once Scunner was within his line of sight.

    “ _We can clear a path_ ,” Stacker replied.

    Greyson, in a sudden moment of realization, covered her mouth with her hand. Tendo made a point to look at Herc, though his expression wasn’t any more cheerful than his partner’s. “They’re going to detonate the payload.”

    They both stood at the same time, and Greyson moved to Herc’s side. Forgetting for that one moment that the Hansen was Acting Marshal, she reached for his shirt sleeve and gripped it between her fingers.

    It was then that the lone video feed from Striker went out.

    “ _Well, like my father always said_ …” Chuck’s voice was all they were receiving. “ _He said, ‘If you have the shot, you take it!’ So let’s do this!_ ”

    Perhaps it was the sleep-deprivation or the overloaded stress — hell, it was probably even the realization that the person you love is bound to die — but Greyson couldn’t help the tears that formed.

    It was a suicide mission. They all knew it from the start, even though nothing had hit them this hard. Chuck would have said something like, “We knew it was a snake when we picked it up” or something of the sort. But instead, Greyson heard him say, “ _It was a pleasure, sir_.”

    The both of them flipped the switches to the bomb on Striker Eureka’s back that was its same weight. The wailing detonation alarms from the ConnPod could be heard through the speakers.

    “ _Hey, Raleigh?_ ”

    It shocked Greyson. It shocked all of them, maybe. This was the first time that Chuck had said Raleigh’s name without it seeming condescending, sarcastic, demeaning, rude, or anything else of the simile.

    Coldness pierced her chest when she heard Chuck’s next words. Herc put a hand hers, though his blue eyes were closed shut.

    “ _Take care of them for me, will you?_ ” His question was a plea, a favor, a dying wish. It was his last goodbye. “ _Don’t let me down_.”

    Raleigh responded hoarsely. “ _Wouldn’t dream of it, Chuckles_.” The man’s lame attempt at evening the field made the other do just that, chuckle.

    Mako and Greyson moved to the comm at the same time. She lightly pressed the communication button, her voice shaking. “Charlie, I love you.”

    “ _Sensei, aishitemasu_.”

    Readouts from Striker Eureka went completely dark. The screen blinked one: Striker’s green dot turned red; STATUS – INACTIVE; then it disappeared all together.

    Max started to whine. The silence from the LOCCENT was so thick someone could cut it with a literal knife. The Sikorsky belly cameras allowed them to see a titanic wave once it reached the surface. The Supers conducted evasive maneuvers to avoid the blast range.

    The Jaeger AI announced current conditions to Gipsy Danger. Crippled limb, leaking fuel, breached hull. The Code Red was so red it was like the entrance to Hell. But Raleigh and Yancy Becket pushed on.

    “What are they doing?” Newt asked quietly.

    Herc turned a bit. He looked worn, exhausted, and his voice vouched for it. “Finishing the mission…”

    Raleigh’s voice broke through the speakers again. “ _LOCCENT, we have the kaiju carcass. We’re heading to the Breach._

    “ _You guys better be right. Because one way or another, we’re getting this thing done_.”


	28. Like I'm Gonna Lose You

**_2025, January 12 – 06:27 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“Almost all systems are critical. Gipsy Danger is losing power.” So close. They were _so close_ – they couldn’t die. They couldn’t fail. Not them _. Not now_. “Yancy’s oxygen is down. Half capacity!” Greyson definitely couldn’t be sure if it were she or Tendo who relayed the incoming data. She didn’t care; it took her only half a second to react and move over to the other side of the console, toggling knobs, switches, and keys.

    Herc was on his toes, throwing a question her way within heartbeats. “Can you reroute it?”

    She responded, “I’m trying.” Her eyes flickered to the heads-up display feed: Yancy Becket was already starting to fade. Oxygen deprivations. Overloaded damage from the Jaeger.

    Slattern was making movement difficult for either pilot, but the brothers had hit rear jets and jumped off the edge of the sea shelf and into the trench below. Yancy drove the Chain Sword into the kaiju and held on; even withstanding Gipsy Danger’s failing systems. Raleigh kept his hold on Slattern steady, triggering overload protocols and forcing out a fuel purge from the front heat vent, burning the son of a bitch right through.

    Slattern’s life signature blinked once, and then disappeared after the two of them entered the Breach. The green dot that was Gipsy Danger soon turned gray. They had entered the Throat of the rift. It was a good thing that the instruments were still able to track them.

    Mildly, Greyson heard Tendo breath out, “They’re in. They’re in!”

    It seemed like everyone let go of a breath they didn’t know they were holding, all at the same time. There was that small spark of hope again.

    “It worked,” Newt remarked in acute shock. As if he wasn’t precisely sure that their strategy was going to, in the first place.

    Something pulled taut in Greyson’s gut when the feed stuttered and began to break up. She didn’t relax until she was positive the feed was going to stay again. The monitor was breaking out in weird sounds, sonic booms. Visual feed cut out almost immediately. The Chain Sword retracted.

    The Jaeger AI nagged on, “ _Oxygen main: left hemisphere, critical levels. Operating at: fifteen percent capacity._ ”

    It kept counting down Yancy’s breaths annoyingly. Greyson stopped trying to reconnect the valve routes when she noticed Raleigh’s own levels lessen. The red alarms went off in the LOCCENT once more. “He’s…” Greyson swallowed down a lump in her throat. “He’s giving Yancy his oxygen.”

     “ _Right_ _hemisphere: oxygen levels, critical_ —”

    Raleigh was limiting his breathing, almost holding his breath as he talked to his big brother. “ _It’s okay now, Yance_ ,” he assured. “ _We did it. I can finish this alone. All I have to do is fall. Anyone can fall._ ”

 _That bastard_ , Greyson thought dryly. _On the edge of unconsciousness and he starts reminiscing…_

_“Rals, are you okay?” a worried, eleven-year-old Yancy had asked when his brother fell off the bike._

_“I think — ahh!” Raleigh had hissed when he put weight on his left ankle. “Yance, my ankle.”_

_Yancy, once shaggy-haired, had examined his eight-year-old kid-brother’s non-mortally wounding injury, seeing no immediate protruding bone. He assured Raleigh not to feel ashamed of falling or not succeeding, stating, “Anyone can fall.”_

_He then asked, “Do you know why we fall, kiddo?” Taking the arm on the side of the bad ankle, Yancy leaned his brother against him, helping him hop along. He gave him a side-glance, smiling. “We fall so we can learn to get back up.”_

_There was a questioning arch set on one of Raleigh’s eye brows. “You stole that from_ Batman Begins _.”_

_And Yancy laughed._

    Greyson shook her head, ridding herself of the memory once glimpsed in the Drift.

    The left hemisphere systems were beginning to shut down, save for the oxygen valve. The HUD screens and Jaeger statuses started dimming down before going offline completely.

    And then it all went online again.

    Raleigh had turned on the Crisis Command Matrix, a sort of fail-safe implemented into the machinery in case one half of a pilot duo was to be unable to continue. It transferred operations to the one remaining Ranger, and Raleigh was going to take control, pilot on his own again. His vitals went haywire as the control systems transferred; he had to forcibly think and remember to keep his heart beating, his lungs breathing.

    He had done it before. Survived it before. Greyson felt it in his memories once upon a time; it was too much. “Rals. Your oxygen levels are critical now,” she informed him, even though he obviously knew. “You don’t have much time.” Pod ejection evacuation module protocols had started. “Start the core meltdown and get out of there. Do you hear me?”

    No response. Oxygen to Raleigh was restored to 100%.

    Greyson’s voice was strained. “You come back to us, Becket.”

    She and Tendo scanned the Jaeger status screen, the Sikorsky’s belly cameras, and even the satellite remote scanners. Data from Gipsy Danger slowed down the further they went. Trackers and vitals were still, somehow, going strong.

    The graphic of the Throat tracked Pod-1 on its way to the surface. One pod. Only one pod had been ejected before the end of the Breach. One. Not two.

    No detonation.

    “This can’t be right,” the lieutenant muttered mostly to herself. The sensors weren’t lying. Someone ejected from Gipsy; the countdown hadn’t started. Herc slammed the console in subsequent anger of the new data.

    Static. “ _LOCCENT, if you can still hear me, I’m initiating reactor override now_.”

    Warning lights flashed. MALFUNCTION. MANUAL ACTIVATION REQUIRED. The external graphic of Gipsy Danger showed up. TRIGGER OFFLINE.

    Herc turned from the large holoscreen in the room, his head angling to look at both Tendo Choi and Greyson Darcy. “What’s going on?”

    “Trigger’s offline. He has to do it by hand,” Tendo answered, swiveling his chair to the other monitor.

    Newt’s whispered concern caught my attention. “He’s out of time. He has to self-destruct now.”

    A ping from the scanner, not unlike a subtle warning. Raleigh had unattached himself from the rig’s arm, releasing the capture rigs to the boot interfaces. Gipsy Danger’s balance was shifted when the bottom of the Throat opened.

    “ _Manual ov—ride –tiated. Core meltd—n T-minus sixty!_ ”

    Greyson’s legs began to jerk in anticipation, the balls of her feet tapping on the floor. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, worry etched clearly on her face. “Come on, Rals,” the lieutenant whispered. “C’mon, you’re on the home-stretch now.”

    One minute was all it took for her heart to stop momentarily. Pod-2 was ejected. Gipsy Danger’s signal was gone. It flashed across the screen: GIPSY DANGER – STATUS: INACTIVE. It seemed like weeks since the Jaeger entered the Breach and disappeared from the radars; however, it was mere moments.

    Nobody spoke.

    The graphic electromagnetic signature of the Throat started to change. Patterns grew and broke down, emitting an energy discharge. Stats of the blast and detonation zone popped up.

    Greyson felt her heart begin pumping freely once again when the screen monitor said: THROAT COLLAPSE. “It’s a direct hit!” she exclaimed excitedly, with a wide grin spreading across her lips, unable to be hidden.

    Tendo stood up with the news, a rush of relief evident from the way his shoulders slacked. “The Breach has collapsed!” he relayed.

    Cheers and whoops and clapping could be heard next. Greyson was sure that a few tears were shed by some – possibly all. Newt and Hermann pulled each other into a long-overdue embrace. The former then clapped both Tendo and Greyson on the back.

    The lieutenant allowed a small, exhausted laugh to slip past her lips when the tech chief pulled her in for his own bone-crushing hug. When she pulled away, Greyson was met by a grinning Mako Mori, having limped in between the other fellows.

    “We did it!” Tendo crowed, pumping his fist into the air like he had just won gold in the Summer Olympics. (Were those still going on, with all the fuss about the Kaiju War? Greyson couldn’t even remember.)

    After Hong Kong’s Double Event, many staffers in the Shatterdome felt as if this last mission, Operation Pitfall, wouldn’t be the slightest bit successful. But they were proved very wrong.

    Today mankind had won.

    Herc gave a sharp order for the pilots to get to the Jumphawks and have the nearby Super Sikorskys to pick up the Beckets when they resurface. “The pods,” he brought back to the light. “Do we have the pods?”

    Greyson turned her attention back to the monitors, and the others followed her lead. Tendo took a seat in his chair, isolating the pod stats. Familiar evacuation pod graphics showed the temperature, pressure, and vitals. Pod-1 was flowing green; signs showing well. Pod-2 was in red.

    The satellite remote sensors picked up on the pod module in which Yancy was enclosed moments after it reached the heavy air outside. “Visuals on first pod,” announced Tendo as the elder Becket emerged from the waters.

    Oxygen tanks were full; good. Satellites still continued to scan the depths for Pod-2. “Tracking’s solid,” the tech chief relayed. “Vital signs are good.”

    Greyson couldn’t help but notice the breaths hitch in everyone else’s throats; the intake of air became heavy. Her fingers turned the tracking signals higher when Herc questioned the whereabouts of Raleigh’s escape pod. “I’m tracking it,” she replied, “but I’m getting no vital signs.”

    _There must be an error_ , Greyson sighed internally. _There fucking had to be. Raleigh couldn’t have gone all that way and come back to the surface and be—_

    Two minutes passed before Pod-2 breached the surface of the Pacific. Yancy’s DriveSuit picked up on his spiking heart rate. The weight of his pod lessened. Did he swim after his brother?

    Tendo and Greyson both worked to get the circuitry of Pod-2 back online, it kept telling them the same damn thing: UNAVAILABLE.

    “To hell if Raleigh’s unavailable, you piece of—”

    “G, chill,” Tendo laughed, cutting off Greyson’s mutterings.

    Manual release on Raleigh’s pod was activated from the outside. Everyone in the room was quiet, holding their breaths, as if it made any difference.

    “ _I can’t find his pulse_.” Yancy’s voice broke the tension, but it was like a heavier weight fell into the pit of Greyson’s stomach when he did speak up. “ _Guys, I don’t think he’s breathing_.”

    Herc breathed out, “Can you read his pulse?” His question was focused towards the control techs. A small sign of hope was in his voice; hope that something had changed. “Does he have a pulse?” he asked once more.

    Greyson shook her head slightly, but it was enough for him to see.

    Raleigh was there. Silent. Unmoving.

    Yancy came from the radio feed again. “ _Raleigh?_ ” He seemed like he was shaking his brother, slapping his face – anything to get a response from him.

    Tendo called out to Yancy over the comm. “Yance, listen to me. It could be that the sensors aren’t working.” He stole a glance at the red sensors of Pod-2, with the same word mocking them: UNAVAILABLE. “We can’t be sure,” he said, trying to sound optimistic.

    _Holy Hell, do I wish he was right._

    The oldest Becket growled in agony. He never cried. Not Yancy. Not even when Fink Herbert was relentless with his pummels.

    Not when they were burying their mother.

    Not when their father abandoned them.

    “ _No. Come on, kiddo, the hard part’s over!_ ” Yancy was pleading, and it pulled tight on Greyson’s heartstrings.

    It was silent again. No tears this time. All celebration had ceased.

    “… _I just got you back, you son of a bitch_.” His voice cracked.

    “Yance.” Greyson made an attempt to grab Yancy’s attention.

    “ _You can’t leave me, Rals_.”

    Greyson frowned while saying more forcefully, “Yancy.”

    A strained “ _You’re squeezing me too tight_ ” was nearly inaudible coming from the speakers. The lieutenant exhaled when she heard Raleigh cough. “ _I couldn’t breathe_ ,” he said with a cheeky laugh.

    Yancy let out a softer laugh, probably pulling together what he had left of his dignity after almost breaking down. If Greyson knew Yancy at all, he would also be pulling Raleigh into that age-old, brotherly head-butt like in the past. “ _You’re a dick_.”

    Greyson watched from the corner of her eyes as Herc took the desktop comm. Again, this time aiming to speak over the ‘Dome’s PA: “This is Marshal Hercules Hansen. The Breach is sealed.” A tense moment arrived that everyone had been waiting for over a decade to overcome. “Stop the clock!”

    The abrupt return of the halted celebrations: Coworkers hugged each other once again. They all turned to the large overhead clock in the LOCCENT; watched as it rushed and flipped down to zeroes all across the board, never to be started again.

    Tendo had told the Becket brothers that they would be picked up shortly; the choppers were already on the way. The only response the tech chief received was some mildly harsh shouts and a big splash of the ocean water.

    While all those around her seemed elated and relieved, Greyson instead felt… the same. Merely indifferent. This was not the scene she pictured when Operation Pitfall was to have come to an end. Too many people were missing in the ever-memorable moment.

    Max began barking to his old heart’s content. He must have been able to feel the excitement and change of atmosphere; felt the joy and exhaustion and who knows what else. However, he couldn’t feel the pain his lone master was feeling. Later on, when it’s bedtime and Chuck’s bed would be empty; tomorrow, when he expects Chuck to take him out for a walk around the tarmac; a week from now, when Chuck never returns; maybe then he would realize the absence.

     Greyson watched solemnly as the new Marshal looked down at his bulldog with a sullen, but amused expression. When he looked back up, Herc had let out a silent sigh. Or did he? Greyson couldn’t be sure; the tears were so thick that she couldn’t even see two feet in front of where she stood.

    She had always believed she was the strong one when it came to dying parents or those who walked out; dying Rangers or those who defected. Greyson thought that she was strong enough not to cry and sniff and sob in the middle of the LOCCENT, but it was when Herc came over and pulled her into his chest with his good arm and let her stain his shirt with her tears did she break apart at the seams.

    Sometimes being strong meant having the capabilities of crying in public and sobbing very loudly.

    There was a sort of poetry to Herc’s compassion as well. His first act as Marshal was to comfort a grieving loved one of a lost pilot, be it Greyson or himself.

    It was a sunny day. The twelfth, she believed. Sunday. The world probably wasn’t going to end today, but to Greyson, it already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd meant to post this so long ago, oops. ^-^ Have a long line-up for updates in the next two weeks!


	29. Centuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize about taking so long to post this update! Anyway, it's here now, so please enjoy!

**_2025 – January 12 – 14:40 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson hadn’t spoken to many people in the time that the Beckets were heading back to the ‘Dome. She hadn’t spoken, period.

    After making sure that both brothers were not going to die any time soon, she went to the hangar bay, climbed up to the gantry, and sat against the railing; just sat and stared at the empty bay that used to house Striker Eureka.

    The Shatterdome seemed significantly emptier without the sentient-like mechas standing over the thousands of workers. There was an obvious feeling of loss of that sort.

    No one had come to where she was; it was either everyone made a silent agreement to give her some space or couldn’t even find her. For whatever the reason, Greyson was giving thanks.

    Her cell phone was lost somewhere within her unit, having been tossed aside in an uncharacteristic act of subsequent annoyance. After news of Operation Pitfall was brought to the public (impressively quick, as she recalled), her call log and text messages didn’t stop notifying her. Close and distant relatives, forgotten friends, acquainted reporters – they all asked the same thing: _What happened?_ She didn’t bother answering any of their questions; they would all find out eventually.

    There was, however, one person who had sent Greyson a message which she did read; hadn’t had contact with that person in a long time. He was saved in her contacts as ‘S’.

    All he said was, “He called me before the deployment. I’m sorry.”

**_2025 – January 13 – 02:54 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson had tried to forget everything that had transpired. She tried to go to sleep, to leave her worries to her consciousness, and regain her energy. But that goal totally flew out of the ports as the hours dragged on after 11 pm.

    Throughout the remainder of the day after the Breach collapsed, small bouts of sadness would hit her, but then little things would distract her and take her mind away from the pain. Work still had to be performed, and Greyson shoved her feelings away momentarily. Consequently, nothing lasted forever.

    Except for the pain. The pain was always constant.

    Her chest hadn’t stopped aching since she had started crying.

**_2025, January 15 – 15:37 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Staffers were still celebrating the closing of the thing plaguing their minds for the past twelve years. Some quick briefings were done, and more meetings were scheduled, but the abundant noise was chronic.

   Few people in the ‘Dome knew in great detail what happened during Operation Pitfall; very few, in comparison to the size of the place. News did travel quickly, but sometimes it was changed along the way. Only God knew what “the word” would be in a few days.

    On top of that, even fewer knew about Yancy’s apparent revival and the hand he played during the op; or Pentecost’s old partnership with Hannibal Chau, and the long-forgotten Lucario Project. But Greyson had the feeling it wouldn’t last for long.  (Details on that were still hazy to this day; Pentecost had made those files in print, and there was next to nothing found digitally.) The thing is that secrets never stayed secret in the PPDC, and that included confidential files. Commanding officers would start to question the events; the public would start to question both the United Nations and the PPDC; in a few months, it would be Greyson’s turn to be questioned.

    Greyson thoughts were occupied by the lone thought that Chuck was more attentive than she had ever given him credit for – incredibly so. She remembered all those years ago when he had brought up the conspiracy theories that, as she came to learn later from Yancy, were not conspiracies at all.

    _“What do you mean you were probed?”_

_Yancy had finished his medical examinations before Raleigh did. They were talking in his quarters because, like before, he always had a shoulder for her to cry on._

_He ran a hand through his blond hair, sheepishly.  “Well, if you say it like_ that _—”_

_Greyson’s upper lip set stiffly and her eyebrows rose up almost menacingly. “How can you make ‘I was part of an underground experiment’ not sound bad, Yance? Tell me.”_

_“You say it nicely,” he retorted back at her sarcastically. When he gauged the humorless expression that his friend was sporting, Yancy swallowed down the lump in his throat and sighed. “Pentecost and Chau were in cahoots.”_

_“What?” Greyson gasped, disbelief filling her bones. “How? What did Chau have that Stacker didn’t?”_

_“Rights” was Yancy’s blunt answer. “Chau pretty much had dibs on any and all kaiju remains, and his Organ Harvesters were able to salvage a brain…”_

_The Filipina lieutenant was able to piece together what the Ranger was hinting at. “Shit, Yance! You Drifted with a kaiju?!” As literate as Greyson usually prided herself with being, simple words failed her. “How? When? Why was this not on record? What?”_

_Thankfully, Yancy had retained the answers to all of that. “Charlie Kenton helped them out with the Pons tech; it was after we tried the three-person sims back in ’18; Pentecost had gotten better at hiding things, you see; and I… don’t know how to answer that last one…”_

It did take quite some time for the information to sink in. What Greyson got from Yancy’s secret side-project was that there really was a reason as to why, all those years ago, Knifehead found it so very _fun_ to rip the elder Becket out of Gipsy’s Conn-Pod and ruin everyone’s lives.

    So many people were affected with Yancy’s disappearance, for the good and the bad. Greyson still needed to get used to hearing about Yancy’s — Donny’s life while not actually being… Yancy.

    But in the back of her mind, she made a mental note to go digging into whatever the hell that Lucario Project once was.

**_2025, January 18 – 00:30 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

She was outside of the ‘Dome, walking out from the helipad and down to the tarmac. She just walked one step after another; didn’t care of getting drenched from the hard rain.

    Rain was nice. Greyson had always liked the rain, but her thoughts clouded her mind too much to thoroughly enjoy it.

    Greyson stepped to the far railing at the edge of the runway, leaning her arms against the slick, cold metal. It was nearly empty on the pad, save for a few pilots and others coming and going. Soon everything on her mind was just out there, out in the air, and no one was present to judge her for saying any of it.

    “You broke your promise, Charlie…” Her tears mixed with the rain. She wasn’t even sure which was which. Not long ago, Chuck had made her a promise — a proper one, with a pinkie-swear and the lot of it — and now he was just… _gone_. “I needed you, you selfish son of a bitch.”

   Chuck was indeed selfish. Always with that branded grin on his lips. Loving. Stubborn. A big damn hero.

   Greyson sobbed.

**_2025 – January 18 – 03:21 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson Darcy didn’t realize her mind was racing to God knows where. She didn’t realize her feet were taking her to a place that was definitely not her sleeping quarters.

   She didn’t realize that she had even knocked on 45A2 until Hercules Hansen had opened the door.

   “Sonny,” the new Marshal muttered hoarsely. Clearing his throat, Herc said, “I would have thought you’d be with the others, or having a good sleep for the first time in a while.”

   “Couldn’t;” that one word was all that came from Greyson’s lips. How could she? What was she going to do now? It was too loud, and too quiet. Too cold.

   Too lonely.

    “Why’re you drenched?”

   The woman simply ignored his obvious inquiry. She palmed her cheeks, ridding all evidence of the brief wetness. In a low voice, Greyson asked the Marshal, “Can… can we talk?”

   The bottom of Herc’s lip disappeared for a moment. “Of course. Of course, definitely, come in.” He stepped back from the entryway and opened the door wider for her.

   Greyson thanked him as she stepped into the ever-familiar room. Things had been left the way they were before. Nothing was messed with since the last. The only parts she noticed different were the wrinkled sheets that made up Chuck’s bed: they looked slept-in, unlike Herc’s bed adjacent.

   Someone else was as affected as she was. And that made all the difference.

   Herc closed the door behind Greyson as she sat at the foot of her late boyfriend’s mattress. Silence. That was all there was at the moment. Man and woman both didn’t find it awkward.

   Surprisingly, Sonny was the first to talk. She didn’t look at Herc when she did. “How are you holding up?”

   “I feel like I’m the one that’s supposed to be asking you that,” truthfully remarked Hansen, avoiding answering the question. Herc took to the spot beside Greyson, facing her, even though she avoided all eye contact.

   After a lengthy silence, Greyson sighed. All she said was “I’m sorry.”

   Hercules brushed his arm against hers. Her skin prickled at the contact. He seemed to be in thought. “Chuck had made up his mind,” he finally said to her. “There was nothing anyone could have done — for either of them. Like all great captains to their ships, pilots choose to go down with their Jaeger and each other.”

   Quietly, she replied. “But do you really believe that?” It was then that she turned to him, meeting his gaze. The girl saw things within Herc’s eyes that she was sure mimicked her own. “Herc… the drafted report that I sent you… I left something out of it.”

   Sonny wasn’t given a vocal reply, but looking back at the man, she saw his question: _Why?_ So she continued. “Both Jaeger connections were strong. There was nothing wrong. But…” Greyson had turned away again, closed down. “The Drift sequencing was good; almost perfect.”

   “What do you mean ‘almost’?”

   “Instrumental data showed that Pentecost and Chuck were at one hundred percent. The system was well in alignment, but it was their Drift that was… unbalanced.”

   Herc frowned. “And you didn’t think that would have been something you wanted to tell me?”

   “I didn’t think it would be a problem, at all,” argued Greyson. Her eye brows knitted together. “I-I should have. I know I should’ve brought it up, but unbalanced Drifts aren’t that rare. It was just that Stacker — his connection was overly dominant. I thought…” She sighed. “There was a flux in Chuck’s brain activity. I thought I was only seeing things until I looked at it again earlier, after...”

    _After I cried my heart out for the hundredth time and needed something to do_ , she thought, but didn’t dare say.

   “A flux,” Herc repeated, possibly wondering if he had heard her correctly.

   “Yes. There was… a sudden fluctuation of activity in the frontal lobe, in the cerebrum, before they detonated the bomb attached to Striker Eureka. Before… before he spoke to Raleigh.”

   “Why bring it up anyway?” Herc asked. “What did you think it meant, if it’s so important?”

   Greyson chewed on the corner of her lip before sighing. “The cerebrum has a lot of functions, and the frontal lobe controls a lot of things, like a person’s personality, their judgment, decision-making, reasoning… their want to survive.”

   “And, what, are you saying Stacker completely ignored Chuck in a time like that?” questioned Herc.

   “No. I’m saying people on their death bed, even people like Stacker, may have had tunnel vision and was adamant on finishing the mission.” Sonny licked her lips. “I don’t know what the unbalanced Drift could have done. Herc, you and I know the blueprints for Striker Eureka. Those escape pods were _intact_. Stacker could have finished the mission alone. Now I feel like Chuck’s hand was forced in staying, and I _let_ him die—”

   “You didn’t.”

   “But what if I did?!” Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. She muttered a small apology to the Marshal. “What if I had said something? What if, in that moment, I’d let myself be selfish and called to him? What if I could have _saved_ him?”

   Hercules was silent; the silence rang louder in Sonny’s ears than the chatter throughout the Shatterdome. It meant that her words had gotten through to Herc, that he was slowly realizing she could be right. “You can’t save everyone.” The statement was stiff, final. “No matter what you do, you can’t save everyone.”

    _Angela_. Greyson knew the story, as did a lot of people. She didn’t need to think twice to know of whom Herc was talking about. But that didn’t make her pain hurt any less, and it didn’t make her anger stop rising. “He didn’t have to go out there – we have other Rangers, we could’ve done more to—”

   “The Marshal didn’t want to hear any of it,” Herc shot back. “ _I tried_ , okay? There was no time to look for reserves, and you know for damn sure Chuck would’ve stepped back up anyway.”

   “He was your son! He was _your_ son, Herc – _Angela’s_ son.” Greyson bit back every remark and curse that threatened to escape her lips, but instead took a large breath and sighed, watching Herc’s movements as he walked across the room, obviously having started to ignore her.

    When he turned around, her eyes focused in on the holoscreen in his hands. “Is that…?”

   “I haven’t been able to unlock it,” Herc informed her. “Don’t know the passcode.”

   “It’s ‘HERC’ in numbers,” answered Greyson. She smiled a little when she saw the mild surprise written on his face, almost all but dismissed that she was still angry at her CO. Herc sat down again and Sonny watched him as he put in the numbers ‘4-3-7-2’. “He changes it after every drop. Thought he could be all secretive about it, but…”

   The lockscreen of Chuck and Greyson disappeared to reveal the middle page and background, this one a family photo of the Hansens, when Chuck was younger. Sonny watched Herc’s reaction, but he didn’t say anything. He quickly found the Task Manager and opened the last application that was used.

   The photo gallery was filled with a lot of things; pictures of Greyson, of Max, prints of numerous Jaegers, and then videos. Tons of them. Some looked to be minutes long, others mere seconds. All of them had Chuck Hansen written all over.

   Herc clicked on a video. It was focused on a sunset along an empty beach. Waves were crashing against the shore. The camera panned to the left, zooming into a younger Greyson Darcy. Sonny was wearing an oversized PPDC sweater (obviously Chuck’s) and sitting on the sand.

   She was staring, admiring the light, and then she noticed the person beside her and she covered her face, pushing the screen away. “ _Chuck, oh my God, quit it_!”

   Laughter. _His_ laughter. The Greyson in present time felt her heart yearn to hear it again.

   The video turned to show Chuck Hansen. He donned a red bull cap atop his head, and he was wearing a grey hoodie. Chuck was smiling—beaming, really—and he leaned into Greyson’s side. “ _You’re insecure, don’t know what for. You’re turning heads when you walk through the doo_ —”

   Sonny laughed. “ _Shut up_.” To do so, she pressed her lips against Chuck’s. The video stopped after the camera fell into the sand.

   Another one was chosen. “ _You’re gonna be a grandfather, old man_.”

   “ _Keep tellin’ you never to call me — what the hell_ _are you doing_?” The video Herc had walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. “ _Boy, turn that off or I’ll_ —”

   A clear of the throat came from Herc when Greyson chuckled. The next video was just of Greyson eating cereal in the mess hall. “ _Are you doing videos again_?” It cut off.

   Herc was about ready to turn off the device when the next video automatically started. “Is that Chuck?” Greyson asked Herc, scooting closer.

   From out of the frame, Chuck sat down in front of the camera. “ _January_ _the eleventh. Pitfall’s going to continue, even without Dad_. _You’d think ‘Okay, I get it, I’m prepared for the worst’, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that’s what fucks you up. That’s what kills you. I think some writer said that, but right now I’m the one saying it._ ” Chuck’s voice was barely picked up by the speaker, but it was enough.

   “ _Hopefully, all goes as planned and we get out of this alive_.” He looked down at something in his hands. Chuck chuckled bitterly. “ _As if things have gone as planned lately_ …” He leaned onto the table, fiddling with a black box in both of his hands. “ _Two Jaeger teams down, Mori’s compromised, and now another Becket’s come back on the grid…_ ”

   Both Herc and Greyson sat in anticipation to what he was going to say next. Or did. Or whatever; this holoscreen was the one of the last viable things of the late Hansen.

   “ _I hope it’s not too late to be the man my father always wanted me to be_ ,” was what Chuck said. “ _I need to do this to keep the three of them alive, to give them their best shot; give them lives. Hoping it’d be with me, so this thing’s going to be deleted anyway_.”

   Chuck focused on the camera, and all the air in Greyson’s lungs disappeared. “ _But if that doesn’t happen… well, no one’s going to miss this mug all too much_.” A sad smile masked the worry. “ _Love, if you’re watching this, than it means we failed and we’re all dead anyway, or you just got to this before I did. Hope it’s the latter. Don’t want the little one to grow up without a dad now_.

   “ _Dad. You’ve always known everything. Too many things left unsaid, and all that shit._ ” He hesitated, and then just stopped all together.

   “ _Catch you in the Drift, Dad_.” 


	30. Ad Astra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sincerely sorry about the months'-long wait! So much crap has been going on, haha. Multiple chapters will be posted in the following few days.

  ** _2025, January 24 – 15:53 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_**

In every hall, every corridor – all there was too many footsteps. It more than a week after the end of the Kaiju War. It was like the fog full of fear had been lifted, and for once in everyone’s lives, no monstrous threat was looming over their heads.

    Circumstances were not any easier for Greyson Darcy; she had forced herself to be busy. Being busy meant that her mind was forced to be occupied with things not pertaining to – to _him_. But that’s what their new interim marshal, Hercules Hansen, had in mind, anyway.

    Living was difficult for everyone. They hadn’t really _lived_ for over a decade; merely _survived_. It was like trying to pull the brakes on a jet train, and everyone just buckled in for a ride. Greyson was holed up in the generally empty LOCCENT sorting through yet another mountain of paperwork. Staff reports were yet to be even thought of; reporters yet to be banging on their very doors. The lone standing Shatterdome had begun to seem quiet. Truly, nothing was the same.

    Except paperwork. Paperwork always stayed the same, much to everyone’s chagrin.

    The automatic sensor doors wisped open as someone entered. “Sonny, there you are! A little birdie told me you might be here.” The man in question swaggered into the room with two mugs of steaming brown liquids. It was Raleigh Becket, who looked battered and bruised, but was breathing and bouncing on his feet. His footsteps echoed as he walked closer to where his friend was perched.

    Greyson looked over her shoulder to greet the younger Becket brother, thanking him before taking the ceramic handle of the mug. “Well, you found me,” she jested bluntly. With her other hand, she cupped the bottom of her drink for support. “Whipped cream with coffee?” the lieutenant mused, raising an brow.

    Raleigh shook his head, putting his own mug to his lips. “Calm down, it’s hot cocoa,” he replied. “They’re pretty much living it up down at the mess hall.”

    “Any progress?” he asked, changing the subject and manifesting faux interest to her activities.

    She sighed a low sigh, answering, “Barely made a dent. This is like a black hole of nothing, except _I’m_ on the other side of it.” Tossing a stack of folders onto her desk, she added, “But with more paper cuts.”

    The man shoved the mountain aside and sat on the edge of her workspace, tucking a hand away in his pocket. “Don’t you have other priorities? Like, oh, I don’t know – _not_ doing work that could be put off until another time?”

    “Maybe” was Greyson’s simple answer. She chuckled a bit, cupping the mug of hot chocolate in between her cold hands, mumbling, “At least some people are taking the whole ‘we canceled the apocalypse’ thing in stride.” Her hand reached over to a stack of spreadsheets and moved them into a new older. That same hand rested on her stomach for a moment before she pulled it away.

    She noticed that Raleigh had given her a questioning glance, but avoided his look afterward. “Hey,” he started, setting down his half-finished cocoa. “I don’t know what’s got you all sullen, and frankly, I don’t care. Yance and I were thinking of going out tonight—”

    “I’d love to, b—”

    “Great! Tendo and a bunch of others are coming with us to go bar hopping. Well, you know… In what parts of the city we _haven’t_ completely destroyed…” Their eyes met, and he smiled a very heartwarming smile. “I can’t wait to tell—”

    Greyson placed a hand onto his shoulder, stopping him mid-sentence. “I appreciate the invitation, Rals, but I’m going to have to pass.” Her answer was short, and most likely not what Raleigh was hoping to hear.

    In that moment, he didn’t speak up. Greyson was a little grateful for it, because she couldn’t stand—

    “Never thought I’d live to see the day that you would turn down booze.”

    That. She knew she couldn’t stand that; Raleigh acting like she was so different from before; reacting like she’d just said she had started smoking, neither of which was even remotely true.

    The tone of his voice chipped away at her slowly on the inside. She had set down everything in her hands long ago. In spite of herself, Greyson reacted to Raleigh’s disdain. “Oh yeah? Abstaining from getting shit-faced drunk and waking up with horrendous hangovers is that much of a shock to you?”

    “Sonny, you practically slept with a bottle every weekend after you came of age, so, _yeah_ , it’s not something I’m used to.”

    “That’s _nothing_ compared to what I’ve had to get used to, Rals!” Greyson paced away from him for a moment, collecting her composure and taking a deep breath. “For years, I had to get used to people abandoning me. I had to get used to beginning to trust people again. And I still have to get used to the thought of leaving my unborn child without a damn _father_!”

     Silence. There was a silence so tense, so thick that it was hard for even Greyson to breathe.

    Their gaze was locked until she broke it.

**_2025, January 25 – 01:07 – Hong Kong, China_ **

Maybe the club life wasn’t their style. Super high-end bars and dance clubs probably never were prime examples of what the Becket boys pegged as Live Like You’re Dying activities. But it _was_ their idea, and ‘Dome staff were already out there with them, and they were the stuff of legends, things that would go down in history – wasn’t that what Marshal Pentecost said to them during orientation? Raleigh couldn’t be sure anymore.

    It was dark in the bar, stuffy and grossly humid. There were bodies everywhere; some had already passed out in booths, others still throwing back drinks, and Raleigh was convinced there was a couple having it all out in the corner just behind him. This was their third hop, and most of their gang was still, ever surprisingly, able to stay upright.

    Key word: Most.

    When the bartender poured him and Yancy another round, the brothers downed their shots like their very lives depended on it. Raleigh quite frankly couldn’t even remember the last time he drank. Maybe it was during their Academy days, before being cooped in the Ice Box and having to abstain. And hell, if drinks were ever going around The Wall, the younger Becket never took a chance; it was a one-way ticket to falling off the top of the damned thing.

    “It’s like being back in the glory days!” The two of them turned simultaneously to find Tendo Choi somewhere in the dimly lit bar scene. “None of it would have been possible without our Rangers.” Cheering ensued after that.

    Yancy’s shoulders shook as he let a round of laughter roll through him. “I’m insane. I’m doped on drugs.”

    “What makes you say so?” Raleigh questioned before letting the cool liquid pass through his teeth.

    There was a silence between them. (A lot of silences seemed to be happening lately, Raleigh noticed.) His brother turned the empty glass upside down and slid off the vinyl barstool without saying another word. He was already at the door when Raleigh called out after him.

    “Yance! Ya—” Raleigh pulled a couple bills from his jeans pocket and lay it on the counter before following his older brother out of the front doors.

     It was unearthly quiet when the Ranger stepped into the night, but it took half a second before the sound came back to him. People were milling around. Vehicles were parked on the sides of the streets. Yancy was leaning against the wall of the joint, trying to ignite his lighter. Raleigh stepped beside him and rested his foot flat on the roughly plastered wall. “You smoke.” It was almost unbelievable. He watched as his brother drew in a deep breath and let the smoke out of his mouth, and then grimaced. “Since when?”

    “Habit I picked up, I guess,” Yancy muttered almost like it didn’t matter. He bit the cigarette between his teeth and turned to Raleigh, cocking his head. “You?”

    A snort came from his nose that was no less than sarcastic. “No. No, see, after Mom died, I…” The blond cleared his throat and looked away from the man beside him, deciding to change the subject. “Were you ever planning to tell me what happened to you, exactly?”

    “I—”

    “You told the shrink and the Marshal, I know. But tell _me_.”

    Both brothers were quiet once more, for multiple heartbeats. Yancy breathed out again before holding the cig in his fingers. He began, “Story has it that a freighter found me barely half alive, as it was. You’d figure they see me in the DriveSuit, and then they’d take me to the nearest Shatterdome or something, right? Obviously that didn’t happen.

    “It’s… it’s all been coming back to me slowly, you know, my memory. Before, it was just faces. Hardly memories, but the faces looked familiar – felt important.” Yancy trailed off and took another inhale of the killing thing. “The details get fuzzy sometimes. I vaguely remember most of the first few months; not that I want to. Honestly—”

    Raleigh said quietly, “It was _five years_ , Yance. Everyone thought you were killed in action.” And it was true. No one is ever expected to survive heavy trauma when it came to an encounter with a kaiju; none more so than Yancy, after what was in the reports. If the equipment hadn’t already killed him, the icy waters should’ve done him in. But he was here – alive, breathing, and that was something. That was more than anything Raleigh could ever have wished for.

    After some time, he continued. “We were still connected in the Pons when Knifehead ripped you out of the ConnPod. You remember that, don’t you?”

    A nod was the only answer Yancy gave his brother. _Raleigh, listen to me. You need to –_ A shiver shot through his spine. His eyes looked darker in the nighttime, scanning the faces of passersby at this time of the evening.

    After another draw from the cig: “I knew I was a goner. From the moment…” He sighed outwards. “Kid, you did what I told you and you pushed through. Now, that rig was like my ball and chain, and I blacked out not soon after hitting the water.” The oldest Becket turned to his baby brother, met his eyes, and gave a small, sad smile. “What was left of the rig unhitched itself from me and I was just dormant in the water for… a while. I was as good as dead, but, hell, Rals, you saved me.”

    Sighing, frowning, Raleigh said, “No, I didn’t. I left you—”

    “I heard you. I was… somewhere, and it was hard to come back from it. But hearing you constantly yelling in my head made it…” Again, Yancy’s voice trailed off. He shook his head, forming his lips around the cigarette. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

    Raleigh shrugged, shoving his cold hands into his jacket pockets. “So. You’d mentioned something about a freighter.”

    Why was it so hard to talk to him? He was his brother, for shit’s sake. Was it the time apart? The trauma of losing him once already, and the shock of having him back? That was probably it; things had changed. He and Yancy had always done everything together. It was seen in Drifts how alike their memories were. This last drop was like stepping into the head of a complete stranger that somehow knew you inside and out, anyway.

    Finally, to his brother Raleigh spit out his question. “They rescued you, took you across the pond and what, didn’t both to bring you back?” His brows were knitted together and his arms were now tightly strung across his chest.

    “I was told that I’d been dead as a doornail for a few days after they’d found me and I… _thawed out_ ,” he said, emphasizing and stretching out the final two words.

    Yancy dropped the bud into the ashtray atop the trash that sat beside him. Pulled out his pack and lit up before speaking again. “I was in civilian clothes; the boat’s crew got the broken DriveSuit off of me while I was out. When I woke up, shock and adrenaline masked most of my injuries. Decked a couple guys, too, before I fell flat on my ass.” Yancy exhaled, listing the injuries he had once sustained: “Concussion, broken jaw, a couple broken ribs, some minor internal bleeds, swelling, and hairline fracture to my femur. My nerves were on fire, I could feel everything. The doc didn’t have much medical equipment or pharms on the boat, and by that time, we were more than halfway to China.”

    “What happened then?” Raleigh asked in genuine curiosity. “The freight crew brought you to a hospital, got you patched up and shiny after some damn miracle. Doctors and nurses – _they_ didn’t recognize you, at all?” He was itching to inquire about it. For days, Raleigh had turned the stone over in his palm, thinking, making believe that Yancy wouldn’t have just given up so easily. “The DS tipped them off, right?”

    It was what, the seventh year into the Kaiju War when Yancy disappeared? Jaeger Rangers were pretty much rock stars, owning fame beyond any imaginable measure.

    People used to drop names around them; they were known even walking down the street. They were the Guillermo del Toro’s, Manny Pacquiao’s, Robert Downey’s, and Tak Mashido’s of their days. Rangers were the faces the faces of the Jaeger Program.

    And then the United Nations started taking it all away from them, for something Raleigh spent working on, too.

    The Beckets both sighed.

    “The crew that pulled me out of the water was exporting materials; didn’t ask what or why.” Yancy inhaled before blowing the smoke from his nostrils. “From the size of the cargo, they looked the size of WRB fighting ‘bots – maybe G-2 spars, a few more crates of parts, I dunno. All I know is that DriveSuit was long gone.

    “I wasn’t really in the condition to be testing the waters with scary-looking dudes; not only because of my injuries, but because of all the drugs they had me hopped up on. Even worse, I’d died twice on their slab, which obviously left me with some kinks in the memory bank, if the past half a decade wasn’t an indication of that.”

    Raleigh wet his lips, his tongue jutting out for a moment. “Where’d they take you?”

    “I was labeled a ‘John Doe’ in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital,” Yancy answered, “after I was transferred from another one near the Kowloon piers. For the first year,  that was my life: bed-ridden, pumped with anti-pain meds – I was going through so many surgeries that I probably have frequent flier miles.”

    “I guess that’s a good enough excuse as to why you didn’t come looking,” the brother chided, not admitting he was slightly hurt. “Tell me where this ‘Donald Ressler’ alias came from, Yance,” kidded Raleigh. A smirk was clear as day on his lips. “How’d you go from Yancy Becket: Kaiju Slayer, to Donny Ressler: Fishboy?”

    Yancy rolled his eyes, but dove into the story despite Raleigh’s jest. Apparently, a girl was involved. Should have been obvious; Yance was always a sucker for the girls.

    The story was that it happened a little over a year from his first time in the hospital, Raleigh was told – whatever ‘it’ was. One of the intern transfers mentioned to Yancy that he didn’t look anything like a John, and the girl, supposedly, smelled like peppermint bark.

    “She had the most beautiful smile,” Yancy sighed. “And her hair…”

    Raleigh watched in amusement as his brother searched for words to describe the girl. His grin was growing wider by the word.

    “Her hair was so blonde and… and… _rambunctiously curly_.”

    It was then that Raleigh burst out laughing, hugging his stomach from the sudden movement. The air around him condensed as he did so. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s just I don’t know what’s funnier: how in love with this girl you sound, or the fact you actually said her hair was _rambunctious_.”

    “Shut it, kid,” Yancy snipped, shoving his brother’s shoulder lightly. He said, “This girl was somethin’ else, I tell you. She looked like the lovechild of Eliza Taylor and Leven Rambin.”

    Raleigh said something like _girls aren’t able to do that stuff yet, Yance_ , and the elder brother told him to fuck off.

    “This gal of yours,” started a very widely smirking Raleigh, “she got a name after all this?”

    Yancy pretty much melted against the pavement. Her name rolled right off his tongue as smooth as a Lightsaber through butter. “Felicity Kincaid.”

    Raleigh chuckled when his brother’s chin hit his chest and his bottom lip disappeared for more moments than was worth.

    “Damn, that girl is something fierce. She used to be a journalist, you know. Investigative journalism, she called it.” Yancy ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Now that I think about it, she did say something about working with Naomi Sokolov on a puff piece before. You remember Naomi?”

    It was like Raleigh had downed bitter medicine when her name was mentioned aloud. “Yeah, I remember.” _I remember she was the reason the Marshal kept a stern look around us_ , he wanted to say, but didn’t. Their Academy days were in the past, and so were all those fights.

    “I digress,” continued Yancy. “Yeah, so Flick – that’s what she’d rather go by – she said I looked like that one actor in a show she used to watch, and the character’s name was Ressler, so it kind of just…” He shrugged lamely, finished with: “It grew on me.”

    Raleigh gave his brother an unimpressed look. “And the fishing thing?”

    “Oh, that.” Yancy reached for the hairs at the nape of his neck, sheepishly so. “Flick’s half-brother, Roland, part-timed at the pier, so he hooked me up with a job. He’s a sensei at a dojo, which is pretty close to the Kwoon, and I took his classes on my day-offs for free so long as I earned my keep.” A small grin grew across his lips. “For some reason, I was his star pupil.”

    Raleigh snickered, “Man, I wonder why.”

    Yancy got lost in his storytelling again; more tales about fish, and relearning everything that was previously engrained in his mind from the Jaeger Academy training, and also about the girl, Flick. He talked more than he used to about other things. Raleigh was listening to every word his brother spoke, but with a furrowed brow. A part of him still could not process that his brother was even _talking_ to him.

    When the firstborn began talking about the great times he had without his family (not exactly in those words), Raleigh interrupted him very rudely. “Skip to the part where you stopped looking. Where you knew something was missing, and you didn’t bother to come back to us—”

    “You seriously think I didn’t _try_?” Yancy’s voice was leveled. His volume didn’t rise, it never when he was angry which was probably scarier, but Raleigh could recognize the tone of his words. “I had nothing, Raleigh. No name, no money, no memories, nothing. It’s not like I was able to hop onto any boat or plan to the States whenever I wanted. If I had even the smallest inkling, my dog tags, maybe. At least I would’ve had a shot.”

    “Alright, you’re right. I’m being insensitive,” monotonously said Raleigh. “It’s not like we all mourned your _death_ or anything.”

    “Oh, _come on—_ ”

    “Jazzy had to move in with Uncle Charles because I couldn’t take care of her without you—”

    Something inside of Yancy snapped. “You know _what_ , kid?”

    “What,” Raleigh huffed haughtily, expression not wavering. He’d pissed his brother off enough to not be bothered.

    Yancy’s upper lip stiffened. “What the hell do you want me to _say_ , I’m sorry? Fine. Sorry I went AWOL for a few years. I’m sorry that Mom died. I’m sorry I dragged you guys into joining the Rangers. I’m sorry that Dad left us. For Christ’s sake, I’m even sorry about Jazzy because she could be dead for all I know!” He huffed out a breath, and then pushed the little stub of a cigarette past his lips and drew. Yancy gave his brother a glance from the corner of his eye as he exhaled through his nose. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there, like I should have been…”

    Raleigh just stared at his big brother, the almost stranger he was exchanging words with. This guy was definitely Yancy – he felt it in his bones, in his head. He was his brother, but at the same time it wasn’t. It made him think that maybe Yancy hasn’t really been Yancy since 2020, except Raleigh knew that it couldn’t be the case. Their Drift in Gipsy Danger was different; he would give it that.

    He had probably been through a lot more shit over the course of the last five years than Raleigh had, from dying to living without any recollection and having to remake himself. The younger brother was sure there were a lot of things Yancy was still holding back from him, but… baby steps.

    _It’s not like he ended up like Oliver Queen_ ; the thought flitted past as quickly as it was formed.

    Yancy’s mouth opened and closed enough times that Raleigh was convinced ht at he must have caught a bug at some point. “Kid, I’m sorry, okay?” Yancy finally said. “Look, Rals, I—”

    “Don’t worry,” Raleigh told Yancy, interrupting him less rudely this time around. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

    Both of them were still leaning against the outside wall of uneven red bricks. Raleigh was breathing out hot breath, and Yancy was exhaling cigarette smoke. They stood beside each other; not talking, not looking at the other.

    Out of nowhere, the younger brother started to laugh. More to his own self, Raleigh asked, “What are we _doing_?”

    His brother ran a hand across his face, holding in a laugh of his own. “I think we’re actually drunk right now.”

    “Lightweight,” coughed Raleigh, grinning broadly.

    Yancy punched his kid brother in the arm a little harder, saying, “You respect your elders now, kid.” He placed the cigarette pack in one of the inner jacket pockets and pulled the collar up.


	31. A Single Man Tear

  ** _2025, January 27 – 07:10 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_**

Herc Hansen was never usually one to be up first. Yes, he’s on his feet early, but when it came to waking up before five in the morning, Chuck was usually the one ripping off _his_ covers first and flickering lights and just being a bloody menace.

    He never had trouble with waking up early nowadays. Herc’s solution was just not sleeping. Be damned if his body clock was off a few hours. The Marshal could never catch more than three hours of shut eye anyway; at least, not after Operation Pitfall.

    Jogging helped. It kept his mind clear whenever he would round the tarmac, given if he had the time. Lately, it had been phone call after video conference after meeting. When he was out in a sweatshirt and sweatpants and his bull cap, Herc wasn’t the Marshal, he was just Herc.

    Sometimes Herc would be grateful that Max was a dog. He listened to his rambling and never talked back or judged him. Well, the entire bathroom situation is another story altogether, but it didn’t matter.

    Sometimes Herc would pity Max because he was a dog. The little guy was smart, insanely smart, but Herc would see the bull dog lying at the foot of Chuck’s bed and sporting those sad, puppy dog eyes, waiting for his master to come back and he never did. No matter how many times he’d say it, Max would just giddy on back to where Chuck always slept.

    Occasionally, Herc would get a little peeved because Max never stopped doing it (“He’s gone, you stupid dog. He’s not coming back.”), and most other times he would hold Max by the ears and smother him with kisses because it just felt like one of those moments (“He’s gone, Maxy. I know; I miss him too.”)

    Herc always found it opportune to go out running and walk Max at the same time. Max was good company; he’d be content with marching alongside his person, tongue hanging out as he did. Herc usually went out while it was still dark in the morning and just jogged until the sun came up. Today was no different. The two of them didn’t do anything different upon waking.

    The one difference on that Monday morning was the presence of Sonny Darcy outside the helipad, doing her job with a holoscreen in hand. She wasn’t there when Herc and Max first set out, so the former figured the lieutenant had only just been to see the surface. The dog barked upon laying eyes on the familiar girl. His pace sped up ahead of Herc’s and he bolted off; it was so sudden that the owner didn’t have enough time to process that his dog was crossing the pad in front of a cargo carrier.

    All Herc heard was the honking. He had stopped moving after he called out Max’s name – once, twice, three times. Herc Hansen stopped breathing when his view of Max was obstructed as another carrier drove past in the moment his dog disappeared under the other large, big-tired vehicle.

    When the Marshal heard the over-abundance of barks again, he let out a loud breath. The cars passed and he saw Max dart out from under the carrier, continuing his trek towards Greyson like nothing even fazed him.

    Herc’s eyes met Greyson’s for a moment, and she smiled at him before picking up Max and walking to him.

**_2025, January 29 – 10:34 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

_Knock, knock, knock._

    Being barely half awake, Greyson Darcy paid the obnoxiously irritating sound no mind. _I should probably get up and get that_ , she thought to herself, but the disturbance had stopped and Greyson soon found herself slowly returning to her previous state of unconsciousness.

    Then, it happened again.

    More to herself than anything else, the woman grumbled out, “Five more minutes.” She turned in her covers, tucking the down blankets firmly under her chin.

    The knocking didn’t stop, but it came next with a voice. “Sonny, come on! Get up!” Another round of rapping at her door was followed by: “I know you’re awake.”

    The owner of the name groaned into the cool pillow below her head, eyes forcibly closed. “ _Sinabi ko limang minuto! P’wede ba?_ ”

    “Grey” – The voice was muffled through the portal, and she know – “you know I can’t understand what the hell you speak Filipino; I can hardly order barbecue.” After a few moments of silence, the door to her room opened up loudly. “Greyson Elijah Darcy, get your ass out of bed.”

    Greyson threw her sheets over her head, groaning louder. _If I can’t see him, he’s not here_. Her mindset wasn’t so effective when he pulled the comforting blankets away, moving to the side of the bed and shaking her roughly. She reached out and swatted Raleigh Becket away. “I said five minutes, you buttmunch.”

    Raleigh grabbed one of Greyson’s wrists, a little out of breath. “Buttmunch, Sonny? Really? What are we, in middle school?”

    She was somehow able to hear the singular beaming grin forming on his lips before she saw it. With one eye open, Greyson took a peek from her covers and up at the blond man. “What’s the catch?”

    “Catch?” he repeated, caught slightly off guard. Upon regaining his composure, Raleigh rolled his eyes. “Is the fact today’s a very special day not enough?”

    Greyson blinked warily, a corner of her mouth turning down. _What day_ was _it?_ She repeated her mental inquiry aloud.

    There was an amused sparkle that shone brightly in Raleigh’s eyes, and Greyson didn’t like it one bit. “Just put your pants on and follow me.”

    “The last time I followed you anywhere, we joined the PPDC.” She threw Raleigh a look before pulling the blankets over her shoulders and shuffling to her bare feet. “What did you do, Becket?”

    “Nothing!” Though he tried, Raleigh couldn’t wipe the broad and growing grin that forced its way onto his lips. She narrowed her eyes at that. “Nothing at all – I swear.”

    With a new change of clothes and a very refreshed Greyson, the two of them left the boarding floors and took the lift down to the mess hall. Greyson was more than suspicious by the time they entered the—

    “Happy birthday!”

    The chorus of Shatterdome workers’ shouts hit her like a sonic boom. As people approached and greeted her, the gears in Greyson’s head slowly began to turn. Raleigh’s expectant grin was almost too much to bear.

    Her eyes were as wide as saucers, staring daggers in her friend’s direction. “You _didn’t_ ,” she gasped.

    “I didn’t,” he replied, shouldering a laugh. Greyson noted the way his Jolly Rancher-blue eyes flickered to something behind her.

    Shouts and hollers and even more laughter filled her eardrums before a hard shower of cold water washed over her from head to toe. Greyson went rigid, mouth agape, standing still as her clothes started to drip. Upon turning around, the Filipina saw Yancy Becket and Tendo Choi, doubled over and gasping in glee.

**_2025, February 15 –09:34 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

The day was chilled. The surrounding air was stale. Was it Saturday? It felt like the week had gone by all too fast. Most of her time was consumed with writing up report summaries about the past few drops and events in the past couple months. She had spent time talking with Herc recently, and this time Greyson couldn’t help but to finally let out the giant wave of mixed emotions.

    There were footsteps approaching her perch at the edge of the tarmac; footsteps that belonged to someone that walked lightly and with vigor. “Have you gone to see the doc lately? What’d he say?”

    Greyson shrugged, hardly noticeable a motion, when the oldest Becket came and sat himself beside her. The strip was quiet, nearly deserted save for the K-Science crews milling about and the chopper pilots who were joking and poking fun at each other. She didn’t dare look him in the eye following the acknowledgement of his presence. A calm silence blanketed over them within a few heartbeats.

    Unwillingly, Greyson sighed. Much to her – and perhaps also Yancy’s – relief, the act of leaning against him didn’t prove to be any more awkward than initially expected. “I’m sorry for everything, Yance.”

    The lieutenant hadn’t answered his initial question, and Yancy Becket vocalized it, much to her dismay.

    Her eyes glazed over the Chinese bay waters. For once, it stayed calm. She felt the salty spray of the waves mist around her ankles. “I’m fine,” Greyson breathed. “Link said I’m just… I can’t do much around here.” Her hand absentmindedly brushed against her stomach. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Yancy staring at her with this… particularly untraceable glimmer etched across his face. “What?” she asked him, straightening her position.

    A quietly stated, “I’m sorry, too” escaped the lips of the blond. He craned his neck, just enough for his lips to find her temple.

    It was a moment of familiarity, solidarity; one of many moments long missed. There was something about lacking someone’s presence for five years that got to a person; an ache that would never be gone, an itch that could never be scratched. One could be aware of it, and not even dare acknowledge for the sake of keeping sane.

    The two of them talked. As if the last few years hadn’t passed and one of them wasn’t with child and the other hadn’t been presumed dead for that time, Greyson and Yancy exchanged words like old war stories.

**_2025, March 1 – 07:20 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“Reports are being finalized, distributed, and filed from J-Tech. K-Science is…” Greyson Darcy bit her lip, keeping herself from stepping on any toes. “They’re still settling some things, let’s say.”

    It was refreshing to see Marshal Hercules Hansen again. The last two months had been long and overall busy. So many things were happening all at once – people were being pulled this way and that, she was drowning in so much paperwork, and he was trying still to steady the reins of what was the Jaeger Program. Though that specific program was drawing to a close, the battle was won.

    The Marshal’s hair had grown out slightly since the last time she had seen him, and it suited him well. Another distinction Greyson made while he was stood was the new suit; Herc was never the one to follow uniformity guidelines unless it was required of him. It was new, and very blue. Ironically, the senior Hansen looked more out-of-place in the Marshal’s office in the suit-and-tie than without.

    “Sir,” Greyson started, “my op reports are in for due revisions. The Operation Pitfall mission report and summary is being requested by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps board, as well as the United Nations representative committee.”

    “Right, right.”

    She watched as Herc’s eyes scanned the mass of papers on his desk; they weren’t scattered or disorganized, as many would assume from a new Marshal, but instead they were in neat piles, cross-stacked to differentiate between copies. It was all an eyesore, especially with the amount of trees they had probably killed for them.

    Herc instead picked up his holoscreen. He tapped around the pad, dragging things, typing words, and grumbling to himself about how technology was a “right menace.” He wasn’t what one would call a ‘whiz’ with the glorified iPads anyway.

    The Marshal said to Greyson, “As grateful as I am that you’ve been on top of things, Sonny…” He seemed to gaze directly at her and stare completely through her at the same time. “I know that getting reports wasn’t what you really came here for.”

    Greyson’s mouth opened and closed enough times that she wondered if she resembled a carp. Finally, the Filipina lieutenant gave up scrounging around for any viable excuses and looked the Marshal dead in the eye. “It’s almost been two months, Herc.” Her shoulders slumped. “Of all people, right now, I know you haven’t accepted what had come to pass.”

    “Of course I have.” Herc’s tone proved defensive. The arch of his eyebrows crinkled as they furrowed together. His shoulders squared back.

    The look Greyson gave him in turn was one that demanded, _don’t lie to yourself_. Her brown eyes were bright with intuition, and the way the light reflected from them made her irises appear to glow. Greyson’s expression softened as she sighed, grasping the wave of emotions that the Marshal was surely juggling. “You know more than I do that this isn’t healthy—”

    “I need to be the Marshal, first and foremost. People need to see me stand point; I can’t dwell on what’s happened. It’ll just…” Herc ran a rough hand over his face before he dropped himself unceremoniously into the desk chair. “It’s happening all over again.”

    Greyson felt his distress, understood his pain. It was rare for her to see Herc so broken, so lost, and yet the strongest he’s ever been. Her heart ached as she watched the Marshal – as she watched Herc Hansen tear himself apart. When he had lost his wife all those years ago, he had Chuck to take care of; he tried to be strong for his son. Now that wound was opened up and fresh and bleeding.

    Hot tears formed and a thick lump bobbed in her throat. “What you need to be is _human_ , Herc,” firmly let our Greyson, “and humans mourn the loss of their family.” She moved around the desk – the same one that Stacker Pentecost had; they hadn’t wanted to move it just yet – and she sat herself on the edge of it. “You’re barely holding up here, I know it. I can see it, they can see it. There’s no way you can just keep going at it like this.”

    “There’s no point in _not_ trying,” Herc retorted, “I’d gone through this when Angela died, and – and I can do it again.” His hands were steady, his voice just the same, but his eyes were those of a desperate man yearning to forget his woes and still forcing himself to remember them for his own sake.

    Greyson’s eyes softened. Her smile was warm, heartfelt, and it brought up what little hope still resided in the room. “Herc, you don’t have to do it alone.”


	32. A Drop in the Ocean

**_2025, March 8 – 15:25 – Hong Kong, China_ **

Mako Mori had been under Stacker Pentecost’s ward for quite some time, and it was difficult to adjust to life without him. As is recorded in much of the world, a lot of people have lost their fair share of loved ones in the last thirteen years of the Kaiju War.

    In the last standing and functional Shatterdome under the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, there were two individuals in particular that had probably been hit harder than anyone in their midst. Hu and Jin Wei-Tang had never been so quiet, and that surely said something. It is known that the brothers very rarely were ever seen to talk, but now they hardly spoke a word to each other. Many ‘Dome staffers had mentioned seeing them going toward the Simulation Room in the earliest times of the day, and then were spotted leaving the grounds and driving into the city.

    Rumors spread. Some said they were doing unethical and immoral things, illegal things (that of which were completely untrue); more than a handful were saying they had gone back to fighting. The Wei-Tangs had been notorious legends in the street-fighting world, but Mako soon found out that the brothers hadn’t exactly gone back to _that_ life.

    After K-Day, boxing became a more sought-after sport. There were just some things that, over the course of the last decade, had been altered in the rings. Audiences wanted a distraction from the overhead threat of KJs; more grit, more gore, more destruction, and it was given that a man-to-man boxing match couldn’t be To the Death. It didn’t take a genius to look up at the three-story Jaeger mechs to find inspiration and start building the Generation 1 ‘bots.

    Robert boxing wasn’t new, not for a long shot. Mako had found out about the sport through one of the old J-Tech guys, Charlie Kenton, before he dropped from the PPDC. He said some people had gone into the World Robot Boxing (WRB) League. ‘Bots were upgraded, reprogrammed, dismantled, destroyed. Generation after generation the ‘bots became less humanoid; programs were decked out to create more show than actual sport. Those who couldn’t qualify to be in the League, or didn’t want to fight with the legal rules, joined the Underground networks. Legends were made in the Underground nets, and more than a few rose up to be League-material; some others met their makers. People won and lost fame; ‘bot fighting was a chance game, but sometimes it wasn’t. In circumstances like these, money was capable of buying happiness.

    It was early March before Mako made up her mind and went to find out where exactly Hu and Jin were going. She had flagged down the Jeep driver who’d taken them out, and he took her to where they were dropped off: a basic gym-slash-dojo near the heart of the city. After walking into the open establishment, Mako watched Hu and another instructor lead a class in one end of the building. She was also able to see, from where she perched in the front room, the gym and back office where Jin spoke with a man suited in a neat, black suit.

    “Can I help you with something, miss?”

    Mako turned upon hearing the voice, seeing that the voice belonged to a dark haired ma, not too much older than she was, by the looks of him. He had a very Milo Ventimiglia-esque aura about him. She smiled at him kindly. “I was wondering when Hu and Jin would be off.”

    The man raised a brow at her, apparently impressed. “You know the brothers?” Off of Mako’s explanation that she knew them from the PPDC, he went ahead and introduced himself. “The name’s Roland Kincaid, but most people call me Rory.”

    “Mako,” she replied, sporting a smile.

    They both got to talking, and Rory brought up that he caught something weird on the news. “I don’t know if you do, but one of my friends was brought to the Shatterdome with the Rangers that we found. And now I’m hearing from the new Marshal’s appearance that that Becket guy found his brother.”

    Mako took a moment to think to herself; was she allowed to talk about Yancy’s return? Marshal Hansen _did_ make a public announcement, after all. She answered him silent question, “If your friend was calling himself ‘Donald’, then yes. He is Yancy.”

    Rory ran a hand over his face, sighing. Mako wasn’t sure if it was one of relief or not. “Man… After all this time, and then I find out the guy I live with is _the_ Yancy Becket.”

    “Mori?” It was Jin who had called her name. He followed with another question: _What are you doing here?_

    Even though Mako didn’t believe one rumor that came from the people at the ‘Dome, she colored herself curious. She countered the brothers with the same question, giving them a stern look.

    To them she remarked, “The Marshal wonders what draws you two out here.” Finally turning back to the American, Rory, Mako offered, “Yancy has asked about Kincaids. If you are them, I see no problem in taking you back with us.”

    He was almost speechless; however, Rory was able to spit a few words out. “I’ll go call my sister.” And that’s just what he did. “Flick? You’re not going to believe this!”

**_2025, March 8 – 17:14 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

Greyson was more than surprised when Mako came back to the Shatterdome after retrieving the Weis with not only the brothers, but two others in addition. As she walked out to the tarmac to meet them, she wore a wary expression. Quietly, the lieutenant whispered, “Mako…”

    “Yes, Sonny?” the younger girl replied to her as the Weis passed them.

    “Who are these people?”

    Flick and Rory hopped out of the Jeep with wide, engrossed eyes. Their sight roamed around the vehicles and over to the large Shatterdome behind them. Greyson waited for an answer from Mako as she gave the two strangers a look-over.

    Mako cleared her throat, saying, “They wanted to see Yancy.”

    “People can’t just come on the grounds with clearance, you know that,” she chastised; appalled that Mako of all people would even try it. “Do you know what Herc would do if—?”

    “Yes, that’s why I hoped you wouldn’t tell him until they got to see the Beckets,” the other pleaded.

    Greyson’s eye brows bunched together before one rose. “Wow, I am such a bad influence on you.” Sighing with mock-reluctance, she greeted the others. “Welcome to the ‘Dome. I’m—”

    “You’re the girl from the news!” the blonde exclaimed. “Grace, right?”

    That pulled a short chuckled out of her. “Greyson,” she corrected. “Greyson Darcy. Everyone calls me Sonny. I’m a friend of Yancy’s.”

    “Excuse my sister, she blabs when she’s nervous,” Tall, Dark and Handsome pardoned. “We’re the Kincaids. I’m Roland, that’s Felicity.”

    “Ahh, so you’re the famous Flick I’ve been hearing so much about,” Greyson mused, grinning. They all laughed at the girl when she turned red. “Mako, why don’t you bring them to the HR office; Yensen’s probably out by now. Flick, Rory, I’ll meet you there with him.”

   Greyson parted ways with them and headed to the boarding units. She went first to Yancy’s room, and after not getting an answer, made her way to Raleigh’s.

    There was laughter heard from the other side of the door. Raleigh opened it after she knocked. “Sonny, what’s—” She held a finger up, cut him off, and then bolted to their bathroom. From the corner of her eye, Greyson spotted a very confused Yancy as she made a beeline for the toilet bowl.

    _Oh, nausea, you motherfucker_. Tears came to the corners of her eyes as her stomach lurched, as she gagged and vomit came up her throat. She hugged the sides of the toilet as if it were a life preserver. As she coughed and breathed heavily, her hair was pulled away from her face and a firm hand began to rub circles into her back.

    No one said a word until she caught her breath.

    “Are you okay?” Raleigh was the first to break the silence.

    Greyson wiped the spit on the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yance, you have the Kincaids waiting for you at HR.” She glared at him when he didn’t move: “Yancy Becket, those people were scared shitless when you left. Take the chance and don’t make the same mistake twice.”

    When Yancy left the room after threatening his brother’s life (“You take care of her, or I’ll kick your ass”), Raleigh slid to the cold tile floor and pulled Greyson into his side.

    “Are you okay?” he asked again, this time firmly. “Do you want me to stay?” She nodded, and he sat there, just keeping her company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! I never anticipated for it to take so long, nor that I would have so much to do in the first months of the year. :P I promise to work on more chapters as soon as possible! Please leave comments; I want to know what you think of the chapters, and what I could improve on.


	33. When a Heart Breaks

  ** _2025, March 22 – 20:05 – Hong Kong, China_**

Flick and Rory Kincaid weren’t horrendous people at all, Greyson concluded. As much as it hated her to admit, she was glad they were there for Yancy when they couldn’t be. The woman looked deep into the recesses of her heart and tried to hate the Kincaids at first, for the same reasons Raleigh did, but she just wasn’t able to find it in herself. It took her less time to adjust than it did Raleigh; he still had a sort of bitterness in him, which she understood. For half a decade, Yancy was alive and well, almost replacing them with the strangers. The younger Becket, however, promised to let the ill will go. Eventually.

    “It’ll be fun!”

    “No offense, Yance, but the last time you said that we enlisted into the program. Look at where we are now.”

    “Oh don’t be such an asshole, Sonny.”

    Yancy had this genius idea for everyone to bond over dinner in the city, to get away from the military scene. Of course, his idea of ‘fun’ had never gone down the traditional route; more often than not, they revolved around food or some great exhilaration. “There’s a ton of Dai Pai Dongs close by,” he said in sing-song, hoping to entice his brother and best friend to accompany them into the night.

    “Duh-Pie What?” Raleigh articulated horrendously, amused by his brother. He shrugged his jacket on and pulled the collar up, not looking at all in his direction. Becket ducked into the restroom to check his hair in the mirror, tufting it out like he generally did.

    The Asian of short stature swatted the American aside and stepped out of the lavatory with a considerate expression painted onto her features. “Street food stalls,” Greyson clarified simply. “Tendo’s taken me there loads of times. Reminds me of the Philippines.”

    “Of course, it does.”

    The three of them had commuted into the still-rebuilding city before meeting up with the brother and sister Kincaids. Like always, people bustled around like ants marching in line. This part of the city had been minimally damaged during the Double-Event a little over two months prior, and everyone went around like nothing had happened. It amazed Greyson that lives went on after so much had happened, not that it was surprising.

    What had been surprising was Yancy’s yelp when Flick jumped onto him from behind, and Rory came following after. Greyson noticed that the blonde woman was clad in fashionably conservative attire, which contrasted her own basic clothes.

    “What are you guys craving for?” Rory asked, walking backwards.

    Flick, whose her arm linked with Yancy’s, answered courteously. “I think the others should choose.”

    “I’m feeling like it’s a tom yum and fish balls kind of night!” put in an excited Filipina, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet.

    Yancy’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas. “I know just the place!”

    And that’s where they all were not ten minutes later. Hundreds of people passed around them like a river’s waters parting at boulders in their wake.  They’d found a stall that accommodated to their needs for the night, and Greyson ordered enough to feed an entire family twice. The table they had claimed was covered with containers of skewered fish balls and at least three different sauces; two pots contained mild spice tom yum soups, fire-hot from the flames in the middle.

    Raleigh was cautious when it came to tasting the food that the other four were already gorging. He wasn’t sure if the Chinese’s definition of ‘mild’ was the same as his, and Greyson laughed at him when he voiced his concern. “What?” the younger Becket challenged. “I’m a white man. I don’t do ‘spicy’, sue me.”

    Greyson countered, “Afraid to cry manly tears like Yancy did watching movies?”

    “Excuse me?” the one in question scoffed. “I do not cry when I watch movies. How dare.”

    Flick scoffed a laugh, shoving her boyfriend’s shoulder. “Babe, you get emotional just watching The Avengers.”

    After recovering from her short snicker, Greyson held up the hand that held a wooden skewer and proceeded to point it in the direction of the older Becket’s less smug face. “D’you wanna know how _I_ remember it?” She raised her brows at Yancy, biting the fried fish ball on the stick.

    “Please. Enlighten me, Sonny.” The grin on Yancy’s face was prominent, although it had shrunk after Flick’s blow to the manhood.

    She bit off more of the fish ball, chewed, swallowed. All eyes were on her, amused, and waiting for her to take on the story. Greyson cleared her throat like she was going to state an important proclamation. “Christmas of 2014,” she began. “The last installment of The Hobbit was in theaters, and all three Beckets and I watched it, right? All three of the attractive dwarves are killed dead and what do I hear? Sniffling.”

    “Oh, god…” Yancy raised both of his palms to his face, hiding the blush that was sure to be on his cheeks.

    “Their little sister looked bored, and Rals was at the edge of his seat, and I turned to Yance and there he was – wiping tears and snot onto the sleeve of his jacket.”

    Everyone who was not Yancy Becket let out a small huff of a laugh at the man’s expense. He began to argue that something had just gotten into his eyes, that what Greyson was saying wasn’t true. She was too busy laughing at the adorable red of his cheeks to even rebut.

**_2025, April 5 – 16:09 – Hong Kong, China_ **

She never liked hospitals. Like, ever. Sure, there was the occasional check-up that went off without a hitch and never ended with the dreaded “You have cancer” bit. To be quite honest, Greyson hadn’t loathed something as much as she loathed hospitals.

    “He’s a shy one, isn’t he?”

    But this visit was the exception. No one was going to tell her she had cancer — not today! Take _that_ , Meredith Grey!

    Greyson turned her head to the ultrasound monitor, looking at the black and white virtual view of her baby. His little hands were up, almost like they covered his face. She was in awe at being able to see the tiny person for the very first time. Tears came to her eyes, saddened that the child’s father wasn’t with her to feel the same pride as she did.

    The doctor gave her a look from the side, smiling, before turning her focus to the man sat on the stiff, metal stool beside Greyson. “What were you thinking of naming him?” she asked softly. Dr. Ginny Harris watched the man’s chest rise as he took in a breath and held it there; his eyes were on Greyson’s form, await the answer as well.

    Without averting her eyes from the monitor, nor a moment’s hesitation, Greyson answered, “Scott Jamison.” There was a smile on her lips, and the two others in the room couldn’t help but return it.

    “Gotta say, though, the kid’s got a big head, just like his daddy.”

    “Don’t insult SJ before he’s even born, my gosh,” Greyson quipped in jest.

    Dr. Harris took off her glasses and pushed them up over her head, moving her brown, curly hair from her face. “From what I can see here, Sonny, your son is extremely healthy. This is your first child, I assume?”

    She nodded.

    “Well,” Harris started with a smile, “good luck to the two of you in the next few months. I’m sure you two will make amazing parents.”

    Greyson chuckled as soon as the words left the doctor’s mouth, angling her head to her side. There sat Herc Hansen, clad in a denim jacket over an army-camo hoodie. He had worn his growing hair pushed back, and in the light of the examination room he looked younger than he actually was. “We’re not together,” the senior Hansen clarified after clearing his throat sheepishly. “I’m here as the…” The Marshal trailed off, looking at Greyson. “Father-in-law,” Herc finished.

    The woman stifled her snicker (without succeeding very much) as her doctor nodded, a hint of a coming blush on her cheeks.

    When later Herc and Greyson left the city hospital, a long-missing grin had found its way to the former’s face. “Scott,” he tried, letting the familiar name roll off of his tongue. “Why that?”

    The latter woman shrugged a shoulder. “It was his idea,” Greyson answered, referring to their deceased loved one. “I like it.”

**_2025, May 19 – 05:33 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China_ **

“You know how much I hate reporters.”

    “Yeah? Well, respectfully, sir, suck it.” Greyson threw a deep red-colored tie around Herc’s neck, and then tilted his chin up for space. “Now quit fidgeting or else it’ll take an hour to make you presentable.”

    Herc laughed with a wide, toothy grin, looking down at the short woman before him. After a few seconds, his expression turned sullen. Somberly, he muttered, “You did him good, y’know.”

    “Don’t,” she snapped, pulling his tie into place. Her eyes flickered up to look into his, and she just knew he could see the tears that were forming. Greyson made a face, almost staring daggers at the man for reopening a fresh wound.

    “I know what it’s like for someone to die, hell, for _that one_ that will always haunt you.” He blinked a couple of times, looking straight ahead. “After Angela, Chuck had a hard time trusting anyone, even me. And I never thanked you for any of that, for helping him.”

    She took in a deep breath. “Tell me about Scott.” Greyson straightened out the tie before stepping back. “Neither of you talked about him, but Chuck wanted to name our kid in his honor. So tell me.”

    Herc frowned, staying stone still. “You don’t want to know.”

    “He’s your brother, Herc. He was your co-pilot.”

    “What do _you_ know about him?” the Marshal inquired, almost unwilling to talk.

    Greyson rolled her eyes. _How mature._ “I know whatever he did that got him dismissed was so heinous that even _Stacker_ wouldn’t consider reinstating him for Pitfall.”

    There was a cynical snort that came straight from Herc’s nose. He started to shake his head. “Now that’s the understatement of the year. Did you know I was the one that turned him in to the board?”

    “No.”

    And it was true. She didn’t know, but she had an inkling.

    “The life was getting to his head, which wasn’t good for him. He never took responsibility for his actions even before, not to mention he was what we called a ‘serial womanizer’.” Greyson had never seen Herc look as disappointed as he did now, and she’s done her fair share to receive his disapproving looks. “I’ll save you the gory details. What he did was against code, bordering illegality, and it took nearly destroying a Jaeger during battle for me to realize what he’d done.”

    Greyson decided not push the topic with Herc, respecting the chivalry it took to save her from the defaming facts. “Chuck found out eventually — he’d had to find out. What did your brother do to convince him that he was worth naming a child after?”

    The Marshal didn’t answer like she’d expected. Instead, he remained silent.

    “Herc—”

    Rather than immediately replying to the lieutenant’s inquiry, Herc stalked off to the window facing the east, over the bay. His hand was drawn and placed palm down on the sill. Greyson jumped in surprise when he kicked the wall angrily. “It should’ve been me,” he growled, already shaking his head. “ _I_ was her husband — _I_ should’ve…”

    Herc’s short ramblings helped Greyson piece together one part of the puzzle, and taking slow, steady strides, the woman came to his side. “Hey. Hey, talk to me. What happened to Angela?”

    He licked his chapped lips and took in a much needed breath to calm himself. When his heart rate was probably close to normal, Herc answered. “We were in the same unit, Scott and I, back with the RAAF.” Herc’s once fisted hand combed through his lengthy hair, smoothing it out. “They’d had a lot of military personnel on the ground during Sydney, trying to get people to safety. The two of us had gone back into the city to get my family.”

    Greyson nodded, signaling to him that she understood. “Chuck told me you’d chosen to get him instead of his mom.” She knew the story up to this point; it was something Herc generally brings up whenever Chuck would be an ass or a brat for no given reason.

    Herc continued: “When Scissure hit Sydney, Angela had been in the downtown districts — she worked there, see. Loved her job, that woman. But I couldn’t be in two places at once, and the boy’s school was closer to where we were, so I chose to try and save Chuck.”

    “And Scott went after Angela.” That was it, Scott’s attempt at saving his sister-in-law’s life for the sake of her family. He knew she was the glue that kept them all together. It’s what made him so important to Chuck; what made his unlawful acts slightly tolerable in comparison to losing a parent.

    Two heart beats passed without either of them speaking a word. “Or at least tried to,” he finally muttered.

    Herc explained, “The official story was that the kaiju demolished the building she was in, least what Stacker told me. Two nukes were deployed, so I guess no one really knows the truth. But Chuck…”

    “He never forgave you for that, at least not until the end.” Greyson looked away from the Marshal and fixed her attention to the continually changing colors of the sky. The sun was beginning to rise. “You chose him, and Scott tried to save your wife.”

    “I never could’ve compared to the bastard,” Herc hissed, likely referring to his brother’s status in his son’s eyes. “He was the babe of the family, that one. Scotty was Chuck’s favorite uncle. Hell, he was his only uncle.

    “When he found out that Angela was gone, and Scott had risked his life in trying to save hers, he just about loathed me and adored the other to bits. No matter what I did, I was always the bad guy; no matter what Scott did, he never was. Because to Chuck, he was the one that tried to save his mum.”

    Greyson crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, saying, “Boys always handle emotional stress differently. It was how he knew to cope.”

    When she turned to look back at the Marshal, his expression had remained sullen. His eyes were a different color against the pinks and oranges of the outside. In this light, he looked like an ancient sentinel of Heimdall-esque stature.

    Their comfortable silence was interrupted when Tendo Choi came into the room. They both turned to look at him in unison. “Sir,” he started, “the press is waiting."


End file.
